Crash My Party
by Court81981
Summary: Modern AU: Peeta Mellark has never been able to say no to Katniss Everdeen. But after years as friends with benefits, that's going to have to change. Everlark. Banner by Ro Nordmann.
1. Chapter 1-You Can Wake Me Up

_**Author's Note—***ducks* I know, another story? But this plot bunny bit me hard, and I just couldn't stop from planning this out. It started out as a one-shot, and then ILoveRynMar got a hold of it, and dammit, now it's a full fledged __angsty multi-chapter fic. If you are not familiar with the Luke Bryan song that inspired this story, the lyrics will provide the chapter titles but you can google them now or listen to the song. It's amazing. __  
_

_I really wanted to explore the canon element of Katniss being oblivious to just how much she already noticed/loved Peeta in this alternate modern universe, and there will be a 'then' and 'now' component to each chapter...so occasionally details in one chapter won't be explained til a later 'then' flashback or 'now' moment. _

_Thanks to my muses: ILoveRynMar, streetlightlove, Pookieh and IzzySamson, all who preread this. And to the brilliant, incomparable Ro Nordmann...you are a genius, my friend. Thank you for the gorgeous banner that is everything I could have hoped for and more._

* * *

_"You can wake me up in the dead of the night…"_

_~Now~_

_(26 years old)_

* * *

The shrieking notes of "Barracuda" startle Peeta awake, and his heart thumps erratically until he gets his bearings and realizes its her ring tone. Groggy with sleep, he squints at the screen at reads the time—2:14—before he slides his finger across the bottom and answers her call. Her voice is rough and she sounds tired but not drunk and when she begs to see him, he can't deny her. He can never deny her anything.

He pads across the hardwood floor of his bedroom and stumbles through the darkened living room, reaching for the deadbolt and listening to the quick click of the release. After twisting the lock on the knob, he trudges back to his bed and slips beneath the covers to wait.

Tonight he doesn't even hear her enter the apartment. It's not until she is standing at the foot of his bed, bathed in the cool blue tint of the moonlight seeping in between the slats of the blinds that he realizes she has arrived. "Hi," she murmurs, first shrugging off her jacket before making quick work of her jeans and peeling her t-shirt from her body. When she's clad in just her lacy black bra and a tiny pair of matching panties, she begins to crawl up the bed, a familiar spark in her molten eyes.

"Bad date, huh?" he asks. The coordinating undergarments is a telltale sign—at least for her—that she had entertained the idea that someone other than him would be seeing her naked that night. After all, he's used to the odd color combinations and simplicity of her usual cotton bra and practical boy shorts.

"The worst," she agrees, her fingers deftly working at the clasp of her bra, a coy smile playing on her lips as the tension in the garment eases and she slides it down her arms. She tosses it to the floor and descends on him before he even has a chance to ogle her bare breasts. Her pebbled nipples graze his chest as her body flattens along his and she latches onto his mouth, kissing him hungrily. Her tongue sweeps along the ridges of the roof of his mouth before twining around his.

"You wanna talk about it?" he mumbles when her lips leave his and begin to suckle at the flesh beneath his jaw. She shakes her head vehemently, trailing kisses down the column of his throat.

"Nuh, uh." She slithers down his body, tugging the sheet down as she goes and a frown instantly alters her expression. "You knew I was coming over. Why are these—" She snaps at the elastic band of his boxer-briefs—"still on?" Her hand settles over the bulge in the fabric and the smile returns to her face when she rubs at his rigid cock and a low groan erupts from his throat. She jerks at the shorts again, and he acquiesces and raises his hips so she can drag them down. Licking her lips, she laves her tongue along her palm and grips him, mewling with approval as she slides her hand up and down his shaft.

Peeta closes his eyes, exhaling lightly. The tingling sensation increases as she pumps him, but when he feels her warm, wet mouth engulf the head of his cock, he bucks up and moans loudly. His eyelids raise halfway so he can watch her sucking him eagerly. He finds his eyes drawn to his breasts, swaying back and forth enticingly, her nipples occasionally brushing his thigh.

She releases him from her mouth with a soft pop and lifts an eyebrow at him playfully before taking his balls in her hand and licking along the length of him. "You're so big," she praises, swirling her tongue around the tip, and Peeta involuntarily thrusts up again. "Do you know much I love sucking your dick?" And then he's in her mouth once more and her head bobs up and down vigorously, her long locks tickling his thighs.

The tension is building rapidly, and the words coming out of her mouth threaten to send him over the edge faster than he'd like. He tries to fight it, but the warmth in his balls spreads and he feels the waves of pleasure begin to crest and in spite of his best efforts, she's just too much for him and he comes with a guttural cry, spilling himself in her mouth. She continues to suckle him, swallowing every drop and dragging her tongue up his shaft before she sits back on her heels and grins mischievously at him.

"Fuck," he breathes, shaking his head at her as his cock softens and she settles herself directly over it, rocking her hips as she grinds into him. She's still clad in her panties, but he can feel how wet she is through the damp scrap of lace. She tosses her loose waves back over her shoulders, giving him an unobstructed view of her pert breasts. "What's gotten into you tonight?"

She shrugs and reaches for his hands, pressing her breasts into his palms, arching her back and gyrating her hips more insistently as he starts to knead the supple mounds. She smirks down at him and bites her lip when he begins to swell beneath her anew. "Mmm, that didn't take long at all."

"I'm serious, Katniss," he says softly. "That was fucking amazing. Not that it isn't always amazing, but what gives?"

Her shoulders lift imperceptibly and she covers his hands with hers, coaxing his thumbs to start circling her nipples. She lets out a little sigh of approval as he rolls and tugs at the hardened buds. "I dunno. I guess sloughing through the assholes in the shallow end of the dating pool reminds me how lucky I am to have you in my life." His breath hitches in his throat, and his stomach swoops as he waits for her to continue, even though he knows the words he wants to hear will never leave her lips. The wicked glint in her grey eyes all but confirms it. "To have this—" She reaches under her and touches him again, rubbing his cock against her wet, heated folds. "—in me." She leans down and kisses him ardently. "Fuck me. Now. Please."

No, he can never deny Katniss Everdeen anything.

But sooner or later that's going to have to change.

* * *

_~Then~_

_The summer after freshman year of high school (15 years old)_

* * *

Peeta rummages through the cabinet beside the sink where his mother always stashes the junk food. He ate dinner an hour ago, but his stomach is still growling and unsatisfied. He decides on a bag of Cheetos and takes it with him into the living room, flopping on the couch and thumping his feet down on the coffee table. His body aches all over. Football practice had been torture that afternoon; Coach Abernathy had been particularly harsh and running the punishing wind sprints in 95-degree heat sucked the life out of him. It also left him peeing every half-hour on account of the three gallons of water he drank—even nearly five hours later. Just thinking about it brought on the urge to go. Fuck. Now it's in his head and he's going to be squirming throughout the entire movie.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he settles back on the couch and grabs the remote, pulling up the On-Demand menu on the satellite. To his dismay, nothing looks even slightly appealing, and he winds up watching several episodes of _Dexter_ before he glances at the clock and sees it's only ten o'clock. His muscles continue to scream at him for a release, but he's too lazy to go out back and take the cover off the hot tub and let it heat up. Besides, he remembers Rye and his latest fuck buddy were out there the night before, and he doubts it's been cleaned today—the pool guy usually comes on Wednesdays.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and curses when he realizes that it had somehow been set to 'silent' and he has six text messages and three missed calls. Finnick. Cato. Thresh. He assumes that his friends—all guys from the football team—are up to no good and looking for him to join in. He's about to call Finnick and tell him he's just going to stay in for the night when he notices that two of the texts are from Katniss

A frisson of jealousy slithers down his spine. He knows part of his foul mood stems from the fact that his best friend had a date tonight—a date she likely could still be on, he frowns, knowing her curfew is midnight.

Peeta had tried not to react badly when Katniss had told him just that morning that she had finally agreed to go out with the lanky red-headed guy who worked at the movie theater with Peeta's brother, Rye. Darius Parker had been hitting on her for almost a year, much to Peeta's chagrin. Whenever Peeta and Katniss went to the movies, he'd roll his eyes and shift impatiently next to her while she endured the lame pick up lines that Darius lobbed in her direction. She always laughed them off and assured Peeta that she wasn't interested in Darius or anyone else really.

Peeta has been in love with Katniss Everdeen since she sat down next to him on the alphabet rug in Mrs. Paylor's kindergarten classroom. The little girl with the wide grey eyes and the glossy black pigtails hadn't said a word, but she smelled like Christmas trees. When the teacher finally got her to smile, it was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. And then she sang. He was a goner.

He had sat beside her at snack time that first day too, and even at five years old, he knew the small triangle of bread and the bruised apple that she carefully unpacked from a crumpled brown paper bag was not fit for the lovely girl beside him. He shyly offered her one of his shortbread cookies, and she reluctantly accepted it, thanking him with another smile that made his stomach flip-flop. "Thank you" was the first thing she had spoken directly to him.

They were inseparable from that moment on.

They still are. But Peeta knows she doesn't feel the same way about him as he does about her. He's pretty sure she doesn't spend most of her nights with her hand down her shorts, pleasuring herself to mental images of him.

He glances at her messages, both of which were sent hours ago, no doubt before she left for her date. He is mildly disturbed that there are no more messages—nothing more recently, say to complain about how shitty her evening is and how she needs him to rescue her. With a loud sigh, he calls Finnick back. He answers after the first ring.

"Fuck, Mellark. Don't you answer a phone or return a fucking text?"

"Hi to you too, Finn." He can barely hear his friend over the shrieks and loud music thrumming through the earpiece. That's the thing about summer—it seems like every night there's a party somewhere.

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm just hanging at home. My parents went into the city for their anniversary and Rye is working."

"So you have the whole house to yourself and you didn't tell us?" Finnick snorts into the phone. "Why are we slumming it in Marvel's basement while his mom pretends she doesn't know we're shotgunning beers and smoking weed down here?"

Peeta rolls his eyes. "Because you're not smoking weed, dumbass. You guys are all talk. You know Abernathy can pull that random drug test bullshit on us anytime."

"You're so fucking smart, Mellark." Finnick pauses and Peeta hears a sharp smacking noise and a giggle and Finnick laughs softly and Peeta hears him tells his girlfriend, Annie, that he'll be right with her. "No Everdeen tonight?"

None of Peeta's friends know how badly he really does want Katniss. But that doesn't stop them all from giving him shit about her and the amount of time they spend together. He's been accused of wanting to fuck her on countless occasions, and he thinks he does a pretty good job of brushing them off—no matter how true it is. "Nah, she's on a date."

Finnick lets out a low whistle between his teeth. "Fuck, man, really? And it's not with you?" He laughs, but Peeta ignores it and remains quiet. "So you coming over here or what?"

Peeta glances at the clock again and decides his suddenly foul mood has left him with no desire to leave the house. He definitely doesn't want to watch Finnick and Annie make out like dogs in heat or Cato trying to get into the pants of whichever cheerleader he's infatuated with this week. And in fact, there's a bottle of lube and a particularly good porno on his laptop with a girl that looks a little like Katniss that are now both calling his name. "Nah, maybe tomorrow night."

"Suit yourself. You working tomorrow?"

"Yeah, opening with my dad. I'll see you at practice?"

"Yeah. Later."

Peeta crumples up the bag of Cheetos and turns off the television, trudging upstairs to his bedroom. He slams the door and locks it behind him—he can never be too safe when he's jacking off, even in an empty house.

The laptop boots up while he brushes his teeth in the bathroom that connects his room to Rye's then pees again and wedges his desk chair under the door, another precaution against Rye's tendency to burst in uninvited, though he's not due home from the movie theater til nearly two. He sheds his tee shirt and his sweat shorts and crosses to the window, glancing outside before drawing the blinds closed. Only a ribbon of moonlight is visible when he turns off the lights and lies down on his bed, not bothering to climb under the sheets. Even with the central air running, it's too warm for them.

He doesn't even remember nodding off, but a loud knock jolts him awake and he lurches up, hand still inside his boxers holding his flaccid cock. The laptop screen is dark but remains open on his nightstand.

Glancing around, he blinks rapidly to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness and his ears try to discern where the knocking is coming from. There it is again. He looks over to the window, realizing it sounds like knuckles rapping against glass, and he cautiously pads to the window tugging up the blinds, nearly tripping backwards and stifling a shout when Katniss's face dominates the pane. She motions to the window and he exhales, his heart pounding against his ribs at the shock of seeing her. Hastily he raises the window and she slips under it; he quickly wraps his arms around her waist protectively to get her safely inside.

"Katniss, what the fuck?" he whispers, breathing heavily as she straightens up, his hands finding purchase on her hips. "How the hell did you get up here?"

She doesn't answer him because all at once her hand is on the back of his neck and she's crushing her lips to his, pressing her body flush against his, and he has to stifle a groan and break away before she feels him getting hard.

"Katniss, what the…" he echoes. His brain is in a fog; the room is spinning and he thinks he must still be dreaming. But he tingle on his lips from the intense pressure of her rough embrace proves he's not.

"Am I a bad kisser?" she asks, her eyes wide and luminous in the moonlight now spilling fully across his floor.

"What?" He's still coming out of his haze and willing her eyes not to stray to his crotch—not that he thinks she'd ever think to look there—and he's too stunned to process what has transpired in the last sixty seconds.

She brushes past him and goes to sit on the edge of his bed, resting her chin on one hand. Her countenance has grown solemn—her eyes look almost sad. She opens her mouth to speak, but her lips quiver and no sound comes out. He sighs and gingerly sinks down to the bed beside her. "What's wrong? How was your date?" he manages to ask, though his stomach twists with envy again. She shrugs and leans her head on his shoulder; he inhales and gets a deep whiff of the lavender and vanilla shampoo she's been using lately. Her hair is down and falls in soft waves, ticking his shoulder and upper arm where her head rests. He's not used to seeing it freed from the confines of her braid, and he has a profound urge to card his fingers through it.

"It was okay," she finally begins. "The restaurant was good, I guess." She coughs quietly and traces circles on his upper thigh, causing his cock to twitch at the proximity of her hand to it. He's hyperaware that he's clad in nothing but his boxer shorts while she is fully dressed, though she seems indifferent to it. "He was nice. We had a good talk on the car ride home and all. I thought things were going well."

Peeta remains silent, struggling to hear what she is saying as he fights the hard-on that is steadily straining inside his shorts. Fuck, he wishes she'd stop touching him. He can't believe he's saying that, but he can't concentrate on anything but how good she smells and how soft her hand is on his leg and how much he'd like it about three inches higher. "What…uh…happened then?"

"He dropped me off and walked me to the door and…" She trails off and huffs, abruptly pulling back her hand and leaping off the bed, starting to pace around the room. Peeta exhales and quickly grabs his cock, adjusting it discreetly while her back is to him. "Oh god, it's so embarrassing, Peeta." She groans and buries her face in her hands while she paces.

His curiosity is certainly piqued. Not much rattles his best friend; Katniss takes pride in her steely exterior and not letting things affect her. He can't recall the last time he's seen her this flustered. Satisfied that his dick is under control, he rises from the bed and walks to grab her shoulders from behind, causing her to still. She spins around and faces him. "I think I broke his nose."

"What?" He tries to suppress his surprised laugh but can't, and he sees the irritation flash in those stony orbs.

"Peeta!" she hisses. "You see? Now you know why it's so bad!"

"Okay, tell me what happened. I'm sure it's not so bad," he says gently.

"He moved to kiss me, and I was a little nervous and I moved the wrong way I guess and I don't even know how it happened but my head drilled his nose and fuck, there was blood, Peeta. Blood!"

"Oh, Katniss. Shit happens. It was an accident. I've done plenty of stupid things. Last week at practice my cleat caught in the turf and I almost drilled a tackling dummy." He shakes his head and smiles at her, feeling slightly guilty for his restrained joy at the knowledge that Darius's attempt at kissing her was thwarted.

"I'm pretty sure you've never broken anyone's nose kissing them."

"I don't kiss that many girls," he replies quietly. And he hasn't. His first kiss—when he was eight—was with Katniss. They had been riding their bikes and had stopped at the creek that ran behind Katniss's house, separating her backyard from the Hawthorne's property next door. After skipping stones and fishing out minnows with their bare hands, Katniss had grabbed his face in her grubby hands and planted her lips on his—much the way she had taken him by surprise after climbing in the window just minutes ago. When he asked her why she had done it, she had shrugged and explained that he was her best friend, she loved him, and she just wanted to see what it felt like. She hasn't mentioned it since, nor has she ever tried to kiss him again until just now. "Was he mad?"

She bites her lip to stop it from trembling and nods. "He was in a lot of pain, though, so I kind of can't blame him. But then he asked me what was wrong with me and why I was such a shitty kisser."

Peeta's eyes widen and his fists instinctively clench at the thought of the usually mild-mannered Darius lashing out at Katniss—_his _Katniss. "I'm sure he didn't mean it," he says gently, reaching for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Kiss me," she begs suddenly, taking his other hand in hers, stepping closer so there is barely an inch between their bodies. "Please, Peeta?"

"What?" he croaks, his heart starting to hammer in his chest again.

"Kiss me. Come on. You're my best friend. Help me out. It's just like studying, and we do that all the time."

"Katniss, I'm not gonna…" The words die in his throat when he observes the desperate look in her eyes.

"Please," she says again, her voice barely a whisper.

Shit. He can't say no to this girl. "Okay," he agrees quietly, and her grey eyes sparkle like quartz.

But he knows he can't draw her into his arms and kiss her standing up. There's no way he won't get hard from the feel of her lips on his, and he's not prepared for the awkwardness that will no doubt ensue when she comprehends his reaction to her. So he leads her back to the bed and they settle next to each other again. His pulse quickens when she places a hand on his knee and leans in, angling her head towards him. He swallows and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek as her eyes flutter closed and she purses her lips expectantly. Slowly, he angles her face towards him and lightly brushes his lips over hers. At first, her mouth is slack beneath his, and he's almost relieved by her obvious inexperience—he didn't exactly think she was off making out with Gale or any other guys, but he's always been insecure when it comes to his feelings for Katniss.

As he continues to kiss her, she begins to respond. Her hand remains on his knee, but she suddenly plants the other one firmly on his bare chest, the heat of her palm raising his body temperature a few degrees almost instantaneously. And then her tongue darts out and presses insistently at the seam of his lips and he draws back.

"What?" she asks, irritation almost audible in her tone. He smiles wanly at her and rubs his thumb along her swollen lower lip.

"Slow down," he chides gently.

"Isn't kissing supposed to be passionate?" she retorts. "Don't most guys want to thrust their tongues in your mouth?"

"The assholes do. But good kissing is all about the build up." He slants his mouth over hers again and traces her lips carefully with his tongue. The flavor of her mint lip balm mingles with her warm breath and it sends an involuntary shiver down his spine.

This time she pulls back. "_You're _using your tongue now." He nods and covers her hand with his, feeling his heart thrumming beneath both their palms.

"Your lips taste good," he whispers, and her tongue immediately flicks out to lick her own lips, brows furrowing. "Go ahead. Taste mine." Hesitantly, she leans up and swipes her tongue along his lower lip. "Slower," he encourages, and she obediently moves it more deliberately, and he cups the back of her neck, urging her closer to him. "Now open your mouth." When she does, he sucks her tongue into his mouth, caressing it with his own. The little squeaks that Katniss begins to make resonate directly in his groin, and before he realizes she is doing it, she has clamored into his lap, straddling him, hovering directly above his prominent erection. Her fingers weave into his hair, her short nails raking over his scalp as she explores the crevices of his mouth. He nibbles at her lower lip, worrying it lightly with his teeth and as she rolls her hips toward him, her eyes widen when she makes contact with his hard-on.

He expects her to scramble off his lap, to flush with embarrassment and climb back out the window. They may know every last thing about each other after years of friendship, but bodily functions have largely been taboo territory—in seventh grade she practically avoided him for two days the time a tampon fell out of her backpack onto his bedroom floor when they were studying for a history test.

But instead, she shocks him by rocking her hips again and the breathy moan that she emits gets lost in his throat as they continue to kiss. His heart is pounding at this point, and with each revolution of Katniss's hips, he knows it won't be long before he loses it. He already feels the tightening in his balls.

As much as he doesn't want her to stop kissing him and rubbing herself against him, he can't—_won't_—blow his load in front of her. "Katniss, stop," he orders, his voice raspy and foreign to his ears. She stills in his lap and slowly pulls her lips from his, a thread of saliva stretching between their mouths.

"Why?" she asks, her eyes narrowed. "You're a really good kisser, Peeta. This feels really good."

A thrill spirals through him at her words of praise. "I know. And you're a really good kisser too, so fuck Darius for saying otherwise." His cock throbs painfully when her eyes light up and her face twists into a surprisingly shy smile. "But we can't keep going or…" He trails off and sighs, motioning to the obvious tenting in his boxers.

Katniss finally looks down and she stares at him long enough that he fidgets uncomfortably under her gaze. Then she shrugs and says, "So? I passed sex Ed last year, Peeta. You helped me study then too, remember? I know all about boners and what happens when you get turned on. It's no big deal." She smirks at him, twisting a finger around a long strand of hair. "I suppose I should be flattered that you even got hard for me."

She has no idea, he thinks with mild amusement, just how hard he gets for her—practically all the time anymore. He tries to keep his tone even. "Uh…I guess."

"What if we laid down?" she whispers. "If I'm not in your lap maybe it won't…" She gestures toward his headboard and pillows.

There's little chance that he's not going to stay ridiculously hard, but he doesn't really want to stop kissing her—not while she's doing it so willingly. But he's hopeful that without her grinding back and forth on top of him, he might be able to keep things under control. "Okay," he agrees and edges back on the bed, pulling her down with him, twisting onto his side so that she's facing him, their bodies parallel to one another. "Are you sure you want to keep doing this?" Fuck. Why did he say that? _Don't give her an out you shithead._

She winds a hand around behind his neck and closes the distance between them. "Shut up." Her mouth melds to his and it's like they've been doing this for years.

He's not sure how long they kiss, but eventually his mind starts to wander to the possibilities of exploring other parts of her body with his lips. He really wants to nuzzle her neck and taste the skin beneath her earlobe—hell he wants to suck on her earlobe. But he's not sure what lines, if any, have been drawn. Are they just kissing? What about his hands? He's kept one on the small of her back, rubbing lazy circles just above the waistband of her jeans while the other stays chastely on her hip. But he wants to touch her everywhere—her ass, her breasts, between her legs—fuck, he wants it all.

"Okay," she breathes, breaking their embrace and bringing him back to reality. "I think I should get back home." Peeta stares at her, his eyes riveted to her puffy pink lips, swollen from being so thoroughly kissed and even in the dim light of his room he can see the flush on her olive skin. "My mom is gonna be up in a few hours for her shift at the hospital and she'll fucking lose it on me if she thinks I snuck out."

"You did sneak out," he says with a laugh that conceals his disappointment. "You're such a rebel."

"Yeah, that's me." She grins and climbs off the bed, adjusting her t-shirt and snapping her loose hair into a ponytail with an elastic she had around her wrist. He rises off the bed too, his boxers immediately displaying the evidence of just how much he enjoyed the last hour. It's well after three a.m. now. Katniss steps towards him and levers on her toes, pressing a soft final kiss to his lips.

"Thanks, Peeta."

"Anytime," he replies sincerely, his heart thumping as she rewards him with a radiant smile.

"Careful. I might take you up on that." She winks at him and slips out the window.

"God, I hope so," he murmurs as he watches her swing over to grab the trellis that leads down to the roof of the Mellarks' screened-in porch and soundlessly leaps to the grass before disappearing into the early morning fog.

His mind is whirling with so many muddled thoughts when he lies back down on his bed that about the only thing he can do to relax is slide his hand inside his shorts and start to stroke himself. Katniss Everdeen had just snuck into his bedroom—she had to have run the nearly three miles here—neither he or Katniss will have a license until the next spring—and she had wanted _him_ to kiss her.

As he circles the tip of his cock and uses some of the pre-cum to lubricate his palm, he closes his eyes and can almost still feel her soft lips on his, her body rocking atop his, and it doesn't take long for the sensation to build and his orgasm to overtake him. He's never come so hard in his life.

He cleans off in the bathroom, careful not to start the faucet past a trickle so as not to wake Rye if he's home by now. Rinsing out the washcloth, he hangs it over the shower bar and quietly returns to his bed, falling into a peaceful slumber, not wanting to consider that this night could have implications that will complicate his friendship with Katniss for years.

* * *

_Please share your thoughts with me...I'm not on tumblr but I welcome comments and PMs. _

_I will be posting the last chapter of A Favorable Wind tomorrow and should have updates to Windfall and Spellbound out by next week. School ends next week, so...that means more writing. Yay! ~C~_


	2. Chapter 2-I Don't Mind Telling

_**Author's Note-**I am beyond humbled and flattered by the response to the first chapter of this story. Thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites, and to Pookieh, thank you for posting this to tumblr and always supporting my writing. _

_The chapters in this story will be quite lengthy when you consider each one has a Now (the Nows pick up where the previous chapter left off, FYI) & Then (slowly revealing backstory) component to them. I don't think that will disappoint anyone, but remember, this is entirely Peeta's point of view, so at times, Katniss will definitely appear unlikeable. Have faith...the endgame is Everlark and she will redeem herself, but it will hurt getting there. _

_THG belongs to Suzanne Collins. And all chapters are rated maturely for sexual content and language._

* * *

_I Don't Mind Telling All the Guys I Can't Meet Them_

_~Now~_

_(26 years old)_

* * *

"You're not staying?" he asks, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice as she finishes cleaning herself off and passes him the washcloth. He swipes it over his crotch a few times and rinses it out in the sink.

Katniss slips her arms through the straps of her bra and adjusts the cups into place, concealing her breasts from his sight. "I stayed last Friday night. You get up really early."

"And you stay up too late," he retorts. "Some of us have jobs that start before ten a.m., Katniss."

She shrugs, tugging up her panties and sauntering past him back into his bedroom. "A few more weeks and you can sleep in with me every morning." She winks over her shoulder. His stomach twists in a knot as her words clutch at his heart. He would like nothing more than that—he's wanted to wake up beside her every day since the first time she shared his bed nearly ten years ago. But he wants it to be a permanent thing, and she doesn't. It's that simple. And that complicated.

He heaves a sigh and splashes some cold water on his face before turning out the bathroom light. There will be bags under his eyes tomorrow, and he's glad that it's late May and school is nearly out for the year.

Peeta loves his job more than he ever thought he would, even though he felt fairly confident that he would enjoy it when he was hired at Panem High School, his alma mater, three years ago. His parents—okay, his _mother_—was irritated when he changed his major sophomore year from business to secondary education, and ever since he graduated with his bachelor's degree and then obtained his master's, she has been harping on him to go get his administrative certification. She has said time and time again that she can't fathom how Peeta can be content just being an English teacher, and wouldn't he rather be a principal or a supervisor or eventually a superintendent?

But he wouldn't. Teaching is his passion. He loves it. He's always enjoyed working with kids and he knows his students relate to him. It's no secret he is one of the most popular teachers on the faculty. His classes are the first to fill up, and he fields numerous requests for college recommendations from his juniors and seniors, which he completes with more thought and care than most of his colleagues do.

Of course, Annie constantly teases him that his looks have as much to do with his course enrollment as his teaching, though she's always quick to praise that too. Finnick's fiancé is one of the high school's seven guidance counselors, and she frequently regales Peeta with stories of disappointed young girls sulking when they leave her office having been shut out of his Shakespeare elective or Creative Writing seminar.

Between his classes, his position as the school newspaper's adviser and his role as the assistant football coach in the fall (Abernathy has yet to retire, but Peeta knows when that time comes, his old coach-turned-mentor will champion him for the promotion) and the varsity wrestling coach in the winter, Peeta keeps himself busy year round in spite of having the summer off from teaching.

Katniss, on the other hand, barely likes her job working in Panem's parks department, as she reminds him on a nearly daily basis, though she perks up a little each summer when she gets to run the recreation programs. She'll never admit to it, but Katniss is as good with children as he is, and she's a natural with them—especially the preteens, no doubt from years of practice practically raising Prim herself. He's stopped by the park on numerous occasions just to watch her interact with the boys and girls in the summer camps. Lately, doing so only makes him wistful for what could be if they'd just have a normal relationship and settle down together.

But for the majority of the year, she spends her days from ten to five behind a little desk in a corner cubicle of the municipal building—and the last few months she's been working out of a trailer since the town is finally renovating the facilities. It's long been his theory that her indifference to her work is the source of a lot of her unhappiness since college ended. Katniss is still paying off her student loans and she's not even using the music and fine arts degree that she worked so hard to earn.

"Can I bring you lunch today?" she asks, fastening her jeans and trailing a fingernail up his torso, leaving a wake of goose flesh in its path. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"I have cafeteria duty on Wednesday and four straight classes in the afternoon so I need to get some papers graded on my lunch." Her eyes flicker imperceptibly as she slips on her t-shirt and grabs her jacket. "Are you sure you won't just stay?"

Her lips quirk up. "Peeta, if I stay, you're not going to get _any_ sleep tonight. Besides I still think my heart is recovering from how hard you made me come." She smirks at him. "Both times." She steps towards him and kisses him soundly on the mouth. "I'll talk to you tomorrow…um, later today, I guess." He sighs and closes the door behind her.

But she's wrong. Truth is if she had stayed, he would have drifted off to sleep comfortably with her legs wrapped around him like vines and his nose nestled deep into the crook of her neck. He always sleeps better when she's beside him.

Instead, he lies awake, restless and replaying the sex in his head. He can't imagine having better chemistry with anyone—and though he hasn't slept with that many other women, it's been enough to know Katniss is by far the best he's had. As with every aspect of their friendship—or whatever the fuck you can call what they have—they seem to be able to read each other's bodies and desires perfectly. She lets go of all her inhibitions when she's with him—the cautious, reserved Katniss who most of the world sees is nonexistent in his bed, replaced with a confident, insatiable woman who pushes every one of his buttons as deftly as he does hers.

He knows he's a selfish coward for letting this 'friends with benefit' arrangement go on as long as it has—he's been content to have her in any way he can. But the older he gets, the more he questions the whole fucked-up situation. He wants more than just sex—he wants a life with her; he wants to put a ring on her finger, buy her a little house and fill it with children. Their friends are all slowly crossing that threshold—in fact, within the next month, he'll be attending three weddings, and at one of them, he'll be standing by Finnick's side when he makes Annie his wife.

Katniss, however, wants none of those things. He's heard her say many times in recent months as she prepares to be a bridesmaid for both Annie and Gale's fiancé, Johanna, that marriage is pointless—a 'stupid piece of paper' were her exact words just last Tuesday. She seems content in her apartment and unfazed by losing Annie as a roommate in a few weeks.

And in spite of her nurturing nature with children—she practically raised her younger sister too—she has never uttered a word to Peeta about ever wanting to become a mother one day. Instead it's him who pictures her belly swollen and distended, his child growing inside, and he even conjures up images of twirling around with a tiny raven-haired girl in his arms—a beautiful little girl who looks just like her.

And it's that vision—this phantom daughter who he sees more and more these nights, and always on nights when she's not beside him—that haunts him as he finally falls asleep just before four a.m. This time, he's lying on a large blue and green plaid blanket, Katniss's head resting in his lap, his fingers toying with her hair, weaving it into tiny, loose braids as he watches their daughter romp through the meadow, her happy squeals mingling with the cacophony of bird calls and the hum of the bumblebees flitting from clover to clover. His hands leave Katniss's hair and meander down over her shoulders, past the curves of her breasts and come to settle on her rounded belly. She gazes up at him with a lazy grin and places her hand over his, the fluttery kicks beneath her skin emphatic against his palm…

His eyes fly open and he lurches up in bed, sweat beading on his temple. He swallows a few times, working up some saliva to ease his parched mouth, and glances at the clock. There are exactly fourteen minutes left until his alarm blares and he needs to get out of bed if he wants to hit the gym before school that morning. He yearns to crawl back under the covers and sleep til noon, but he knows that's not an option. So he switches off the alarm, drags himself out of bed and forces himself to dress, and drives to the gym where he spends the next hour lifting weights and doing crunches, still flustered by this new twist on his recurring dream—now picturing Katniss pregnant with a _second_ child.

Two hours later, he's struggling to keep his eyes open at his desk as his sophomores watch _The Crucible_, having just completed a reading of it. He loves the play, hates the movie, but this late in the school year, he'll show them just about any film adaptation to keep their interest. His lids droop again, and he shakes himself awake, rising from his chair to move about his classroom, busying himself with arranging file folders and straightening bookshelves just to stay alert.

By the time lunch rolls around, he wants nothing more than to walk out to the parking lot and curl up on the backseat of his car to catch a power nap. Instead, he trudges to the faculty room and rummages through the refrigerator for the labeled container that holds his salad and sandwich.

"Peeta?" He pokes his head around the fridge door and his eyes land on a pretty blonde woman sitting at the end of the rectangular table closest to him. Her blue eyes sparkle pleasantly.

"Madge. Hey," he greets her, recognizing her immediately from her Facebook profile picture. She stands and smooths down her grey pencil skirt, and he gathers her into his arms for a friendly hug. "What are you doing here?"

She motions to a spread on the table, a host of pamphlets and files. "This is my territory now. Financial advising." She holds up a hand. "But relax, I know you already have a 403b and contribute regularly, so no worries, I won't be soliciting you today."

"Kind of late in the year for that, isn't it?" He knows most teachers—himself included— eye the summer's impending expenses warily. Peeta plans extensively for not having a paycheck two months of the year, and his extra stipends from football, wrestling and the newspaper help that, but most of his colleagues are not so responsible.

"Yeah, we know. I'm not expecting anyone to jump and sign up if they're not already clients. But since I'm new, my boss thought I should make myself visible and make a good impression. I'm taking over Jack Boggs's clients, you included." She goes on to explain how Peeta's previous financial adviser decided to move to San Diego with his wife and three children, and she inherited some of his workload.

"I'm sure there are a few staff members who will give you a second glance, but it won't be for retirement planning."

She blushes, a faint pink tingeing her ivory cheeks and she fiddles with the ID badge clipped to her belt. "You're always so sweet."

He grins. "Yeah, that's me. Anyway, I need to get back to my classroom. Just came to grab my lunch." He holds up the containers. "I've got a stack of engrossing essays on _A Separate Peace_ calling my name and forty minutes to make a healthy dent in them."

"Oh, you don't eat in here?" She sounds disappointed.

"Occasionally. Not too often though. Actually not too many of the staff does. Most of the time it's just a bitch fest in here and if I need to vent, I just go to Annie's office and she listens. That's what she gets paid for." He and Annie actually have lunch together each Friday and they make it a point _not_ to talk about school, but he has sought refuge in her office on occasion after a rough class or a nasty parent email.

"I haven't been too successful this morning. I guess maybe that's why." She holds up one of her pamphlets. "I worked so hard on these too."

"It's a really busy time of the year too. Don't take it personally. A lot of the faculty is swamped with grading and will work through lunch like I'm about to do." To be polite, he takes the paper from her and smiles. "The Lifesaver candy is a cute touch. I bet the teachers down at the primary schools love that." He folds the flier in half and slips it into his pocket. "It was good to see you again, Madge."

"Wait, Peeta," she calls and he turns around, hand on the doorknob. She produces a small card and takes his hand, pressing the card into his palm. "If you ever need anything. Or you want to grab lunch or a drink sometime. Catch up, you know?"

"Uh, sure," he agrees, studying the embossed script on the business card.

"And I'll see you at Finnick and Annie's wedding right?" Her eyes twinkle again, a smile lifting her pink lips. He nods.

"Best man and all, I kind of have to show up," he teases, and she giggles. "I'll see you around, Madge."

When he gets back to his classroom, the energy-saving lights have gone out, and the room is dark. He steps inside and waves his palm around, trying to activate the sensor, but a hand lurches out and seizes his wrist, startling him, and he drops his salad. Fortunately the Tupperware is sealed tight and it clatters to the ground safely. Before he can register what's happening, he catches a whiff of sandalwood laced with vanilla seconds before her lips capture his mouth hungrily. She crushes her body to his, trapping him against the door and grasps at his hips, tugging his pelvis flush against hers.

His body automatically responses to her touch, and his dress slacks tent as his erection swells. Katniss thrusts against him, her hands gliding up his sides to land on his shoulders. Her tongue laps at the roof of his mouth and licks at his teeth before she sucks his lower lip between hers, worrying it with her own teeth.

"Fuck, Katniss, stop," he chides her, breaking the embrace and holding her at arm's length. "What are you doing here?"

Her grey eyes flicker unhappily and her fingers move to fidget with the end of her braid. "I thought I'd surprise you." She smiles suggestively and reaches for the buckle of his belt. He gently–but firmly—pushes her hand away, and the lights finally come on.

He leans past her, willing himself not to breathe in another whiff of her intoxicating scent, and yanks down the lockdown shade that covers the small window on the classroom door. "We're in my classroom. People—students—could see."

"It hasn't stopped you before," she says softly, taking two steps towards him and playing with the hem of her Panem Parks Department polo as she untucks it from her khakis. "I remember last week when I brought you lunch, you went down on me right—" She struts past him and perches on the edge of his desk, eyes gleaming naughtily. "—here. There's a reason doors have locks, Peeta."

"I told you that I had a lot to do today." Bending down to retrieve his fallen salad, he walks to his desk and sets down the plastic container and the wrapped sandwich that he had wedged under his arm. "You don't listen sometimes."

"I thought you were exaggerating," she pouts, unwinding her braid and shaking her hair into loose waves. He twitches, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

"I wasn't," he retorts.

"I had a bad morning at work," she says, her tone softening. "I kind of wanted to see you."

He closes his eyes and sits down at his desk, shuffling the stack of papers that await his green pen. A simple statement with Katniss is often more loaded than it should be: does she want to see him for the comfort that he provides as her best friend, or is she just here for the sexual release he continues to foolishly provide her with? It seems to be the latter more than usual lately, and that's beginning to bother him more and more. "And I kind of wanted you to stay in my bed this morning, but sometimes we don't get what we want." It comes out harsher than he intended for it to, bitterness edging his words.

Her expression is remorseful at first, but then her eyes spark with that fire he's seen a thousand times. "I brought you something." She juts her chin up and her eyes flash again, unmistakable hurt lacing her tone. "Have a nice lunch. I hope you get your work done."

He can't even utter a protest because she spins on her heel and slams the classroom door. Sighing, he scrubs at his jaw and reaches for his students' essays. His heart sinks when he sees the bag from Wasabi Wok beside the pile, and he immediately regrets being short with her. Lifting the bag, he sits and unpacks the assortment of rainbow and California rolls and a bottle of the green tea that he inhales by the gallon. A second small white bag reveals a little tub of tiramisu from the Italian deli next to the sushi place. His favorites, but enough for two. _Fuck_. Now he really feels like shit.

Reaching for his phone, he exhales heavily when he presses send and her phone rings seven times and goes to voicemail. He taps out a quick text, thanking her for the sweet gesture and apologizing, but three pieces of sushi and four essays later, his phone remains silent.

He didn't mean to hurt her feelings. Or maybe he did. His irritation with her has been growing these past few months, and he knows Finnick and Annie's impending nuptials has a lot to do with it. And now his exasperation with her has slowly started to manifest itself in even their smallest interactions.

If he didn't love her so damn much, this would be a lot easier.

* * *

He always knows Katniss is pissed when more than a day passes without hearing from her—though he can count on one hand how many times that's happened in all the years they've been friends. But by the time Friday afternoon rolls around and she still hasn't called, an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. They've rarely ever gone this long without so much as a text message.

He's also a little pissed that she thinks she has the right to be angry with him; this isn't a real relationship—by _her_ choice, and maybe the incident in his classroom is the start of making that clear. She can't keep expecting him to drop everything for her.

An open duffel bag rests on his bed, waiting to be packed. The party bus leaves from Finnick's condo at six o'clock—twenty minutes from now—bound for Atlantic City for a weekend of bachelor debauchery. Peeta had made all the arrangements himself, knowing exactly the kind of celebration his friend wanted to kiss his single days good-bye. Finnick may be completely over the moon for Annie—sickeningly so—but there's still a frat boy hidden beneath the devoted surface.

He strips off his work clothes and stands in front of his closet in his boxer-briefs, contemplating his choices before he plucks a black button-down shirt and a charcoal grey t-shirt from their hangers, tossing them to the bed to throw in for tomorrow night and then grabs another shirt to wear home Sunday. He moves to his drawers and pulls out two pairs of jeans, shoving one in the duffel bag and leaving the other pair to put on momentarily. He tosses in another pair of underwear and a pair of socks and pauses in front of the full-length mirror on his closet door, rubbing a hand absently over his jaw. He doesn't feel like packing his razor, but he also doesn't feel like shaving. Fuck it. He'll just go scruffy. The strippers won't mind, he thinks dryly.

He pads into the bathroom and stuffs his toothbrush and toothpaste and deodorant into a small zippered case, pausing to consider whether he should even bother bringing shampoo when there is a knock on his door. He glances down at his nearly naked form and grabs a towel from the rack beside the shower, wrapping it tightly around his torso.

Katniss stands outside his apartment; his heart lifts at the sight of her and then his stomach roils uneasily. He steps away from the peephole and steels himself as he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Her eyes rake up and down his bare chest and he folds his arms defensively across his stomach, watching a tiny spark of lust light in her grey irises. "Hi," she says softly, a demure smile on her lips.

He can't ignore the fact that she's wearing a little orange sundress—she almost never wears dresses—and her hair is down and the glossy peach sheen to her lips is a blatant invitation to kiss her senseless. "Hey," he replies dully, tamping down the desire that courses through him studying her lithe frame in the blatantly sexy dress. He leans against the doorframe and avoids staring at her breasts—it's a challenge; they look so perky in the tight, ruched top of the sundress.

"Is this a bad time?" she asks, twisting a finger around a long lock of hair.

"I was just getting ready to head over to Finnick's."

She nods. "Right, the big bachelor weekend." She bounces on the balls of her feet, her toes wiggling in her flip-flops. "Can I, uh, come in?"

He shrugs and waves her into the apartment, and she brushes past him, her hand grazing his elbow. She bites her lip as her eyes scan his bare torso again, and then she drags them up to meet his. "I'm sorry," she whispers, leaning against the edge of his couch. "I didn't mean to make you mad the other day."

Shit. He sighs and rubs at his temples with his thumbs. She looks so despondent sitting there, her voice so wounded. And yet she still manages to look so fucking beautiful; he hates that she has this hold on him—she's been in his apartment for less than sixty seconds and already his resolve is crumbling. This is how he gets himself into trouble every fucking time.

"I shouldn't have been so harsh with you," he answers evenly. "I know you were just trying to be nice." He smiles at her gently. "And the sushi was just what I needed."

"I really did want to see you," she adds, twirling her hair again and wetting her lips, and they glisten more with the saliva mingling with the shiny gloss. "I wanted to talk."

"You said you had a bad morning. Do you want to talk about it now?" If he keeps her talking, he won't think about how the hem of her dress has ridden up on her thigh and how the flowy skirt would give him such easy access to eat her out. His dick throbs at the thought of being between her thighs, but he really needs to get moving if he's going to be to Finnick's on time. He can't be letting her seduce him no matter how turned on she gets him.

She shakes her head roughly. "No."

"Are you sure?" he hedges because in spite of how emphatically she shakes her head, her voice is infinitely less sure.

She hesitates and tugs her lip between her teeth. "Well, I got called into my boss's office and he told me that the town council is discussing budget cuts for the June meeting and there's a chance my position in the parks department will be eliminated." Her lip quivers and she stills it with her teeth again.

"Oh, Katniss." He crosses to where she rests on the couch's arm and takes her hands in his. She blinks and he sees a faint glimmer in the corner of her grey eyes. It takes a lot to make her cry. "I'm sorry. It's only a discussion, right? Try to think positively. That council is always throwing out things that never come to fruition. There are bound to be other things that they'll bring up for potential cuts before you."

She rises from the couch and straightens up inches from him, and when he glances down at her, he can see the soft curves of her breasts swelling against the neckline of her sundress. "I just have a feeling, that's all," she says sullenly.

"Well, they'd be stupid to let you go," he continues, "You're the whole reason that summer rec camp fills up so quickly."

"You're the only one who ever believes in me." The pain in her voice is palpable and it tugs at his heart.

"That's not true."

"Peeta." Her tone is imploring and when he meets her wanton eyes again, it's a losing battle. His hands find purchase on her slender hips and hers skim his waist, unraveling the towel and yanking down his boxers with one swift motion. Her hand grips him tightly, his cock growing steadily in her grasp. Their mouths connect, clashing and slanting and moving ravenously over the other. He backs her into the couch and her calves hit the cushions and she spins them around and pushes him down, climbing into his lap. The skirt of her sundress flounces over his thighs and he jolts when his cock comes into contact with her heated arousal.

"Fuck," he gasps as her lips pepper kisses along his neck and up to his jaw, her tongue lightly dancing over the stubbled flesh. "Are you not wearing underwear?"

She rolls her hips and the tip of him presses into her just an inch or so. "Maybe," she murmurs, lifting her mouth off his neck and kissing him eagerly again. He hooks his thumbs into the straps of her sundress and pulls it down around her waist, moaning when he sees her naked breasts, the dusky nipples puckering into taut buds as they're exposed to the chill of the air. She throws her head back and rocks insistently against his erection when he lowers his mouth and suckles one nipple greedily. "Ah!" she cries when he tugs with his teeth and chases the sharp pain away with soothing strokes of his tongue. Groaning his approval, she lifts up her hips and sinks down onto him. He continues to nibble and flick at her nipples as she starts to ride him.

His phone rings just as she buries her head in the crook of his neck, sucking on his sweaty skin. "Don't answer that," she commands, bouncing faster and arching her back, gripping the top of the couch for more leverage. Then she leans down and kisses him fiercely, her tongue daring his to match its movements. The phone finally ceases its incessant ringing.

As good as she feels gliding up and down on his length, it must be getting dangerously close to six o'clock so he reaches between them and rubs her clit roughly, smiling triumphantly when she keens loudly and he feels her walls tighten, milking him to his own orgasm seconds later. His cock pulses as he empties himself inside her, and she collapses on his chest, her nails scratching through his damp hair. He moves to stand but her legs wrap around his waist and she clings to him, her eyes glazed and her breathing ragged. She gives him a languid smile and slides off his lap to the floor, taking his softening cock in her mouth.

"Katniss, no, come on," he protests, but she swirls her tongue and he's not surprised when within a few minutes, he feels the blood rushing to his groin and himself getting hard again. For once, he's aggravated by his stamina. She smirks and takes him deeper in her throat and he's powerless to fight her.

The phone rings again and though she keeps sucking him, her eyes flash with annoyance and she smacks her left palm out to fumble on the coffee table, grabbing his phone and handing it to him, her mouth never leaving his dick. He sees the time a second before he answers the call—6:13. Have they really been fucking for over a half hour already?

"Peeta, where the fuck are you?"

He braces his arms along the back of the couch as Katniss's expert movements spur him towards another orgasm; his balls begin to tighten and the wet suction of her mouth has him right on the precipice again. "Finn, I'm sorry," he rasps out, gritting his teeth and choking back a moan as Katniss palms his sac.

"The bus is ready to leave. Where are you? What the fuck are you doing? Of all the people to be late, I figured it'd be Cato or Brutus. Not you."

Katniss flashes him a lascivious smile and releases him from her mouth, rising up on her knees. She stands, turning away from him and positioning herself over his erection. With a hiss, she sheaths herself on him again, laying her head to rest on his shoulder and gyrating her pelvis. Mesmerized, he watches her taut stomach muscles tense and relax with each revolution of her hips. She cups her own breasts and he has to close his eyes to keep from coming when she starts playing with her nipples.

"I'm going to have to meet you guys down there. Something…ah…came up."

She snickers softly and angles her head up, nuzzling his neck.

"Peeta, seriously, man. For real? We can wait a few more minutes for you, but fuck, come on."

She takes his free hand and guides it down her flat stomach until his thumb finds her clit again.

"It's fine, Finn," he says steadily, struggling to keep from coming until he can get off the phone. "I'll just grab the train and meet you guys in A.C. I'll be there by 9, I promise."

Finnick doesn't sound happy, but he reluctantly agrees and Peeta manages to hang up just as Katniss shudders around him with a prolonged cry of his name, and he remembers why as hot as this position is, he doesn't love it when she rides him in reverse for the sole reason he doesn't get a good view of her face when she orgasms. He cups her jaw and tilts her lips to meet his mouth, kissing her so hard that his own grunts of pleasure are trapped in her throat. A few more thrusts and he spills himself inside her, his body going limp and listless in the ebbing waves of bliss.

* * *

_~Then~_

_Spring of Sophomore Year (16 years old)_

* * *

There are only so many nights Peeta can play beer pong and Asshole and Flip Cup with the guys.

But he knows that's what is on the agenda that Friday night when Finnick texts him and tells them they're hanging at his house. His mother and stepfather are heading to Scranton for some weekend-long soccer tournament for Finn's twelve-year-old stepsister, and Finnick's younger brother is spending Friday night and Saturday with their father in Cherry Hill. Peeta suspects Finnick is supposed to be seeing his dad too, but he doesn't pry into the Odair family's complicated custody arrangements. With both parents remarried and a host of stepsiblings, Finnick and his younger brother, Dylan, seem content to rely on only each other. Finn is as fierce a big brother as Katniss is a big sister.

When he texts Katniss to tell her where he'll be, she informs him that she has to take Prim to some 'sixth grade fun night' at the middle school and it's _not_ at drop off event— Prim told her five times. Peeta keeps quiet, though he laments how Katniss has had her license for exactly two weeks and already Mrs. Everdeen has pawned off Prim's chauffeuring-around duties to her elder daughter. A second text from Katniss tells him that she will let him know when she's done with Prim and _maybe_ she will swing by Finn's. Her emphasis on the maybe doesn't leave him that hopeful.

An hour later, he's two Miller Lites in and firmly settled in the president's chair as Marvel sullenly deals his fifth straight round as asshole when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Once he's gotten his two cards from Marvel, he sneaks a peek at the screen, his spirits lifting when he sees Katniss's name in the text bubble.

_Katniss: Convinced Gale to bring Prim home. Want to go to a movie? Rye working?_

On nights when Rye works the main entrance to the movie theater, his brother can usually manage to sneak Peeta and Katniss in for free. As a result, they see almost everything that comes out, and he can't even recall if there's anything good left that they haven't seen yet. Still, his desire to see Katniss and sit beside her in a dark movie theater trumps anything else that the night could have in store at Finnick's.

He tries not to think about the fact that she spent at least part of the evening with Gale Hawthorne. Peeta has long been uneasy with the presence of the rugged, older guy in Katniss's life. The Everdeen and Hawthorne families are very close, and thus she is around Gale a lot. Peeta thinks Gale assumes he has some kind of claim on her—even though Peeta has known her longer and_ knows_ he loved her first.

Gale's mother transferred to the same hospital where Mrs. Everdeen worked as an emergency room nurse when Katniss was ten and Gale was twelve. The women forged a fast friendship that seemed fortuitous when two weeks later, Katniss's father walked out on them just days before Prim's sixth birthday. And then Gale's father dropped dead of a heart attack in his body shop four days after that, and the women turned to each other for support. Peeta was always amazed at how differently they coped with their losses. Gale's mother—who suffered the greater loss in Peeta's mind in that Mr. Hawthorne was _never_ coming back—was strong and stoic in accepting her husband's death and took countless double shifts at the hospital to make sure Gale and his three younger siblings didn't lack for any of the things they had when their father was alive.

Katniss's mother, on the other hand, did not handle her husband's disappearing act well. She slipped into a deep depression, shutting herself in her bedroom for days, leaving Katniss to prepare Prim's breakfast and pack their meager lunches and get them both ready for school and to the bus stop on time. Peeta didn't see a lot of Katniss those first days as she and Prim sought refuge frequently at Gale's house and in the comfort of Hazelle Hawthorne's home-cooked meals and warm hugs.

But he vividly remembers the vacant look in Katniss's pretty silver eyes that lingered for weeks after her father left. Over the years, there has been the occasional letter and on Katniss's thirteenth birthday she got a card and a check for fifty dollars, which Peeta had watched her shred and toss into the air, the pieces raining down like confetti into the sewer beside her mailbox. She never talks about her father much anymore.

He picks up his cards and plays a four, discreetly balancing his phone on his knee so he can tap a text back to Katniss, his index finger moving subtly in his lap.

_Peeta: at Finn's. come by. annie's not here but the guys won't care. we can do the movies tomorrow_

Play is already back to him, so he slaps down a single ten and shifts his eyes back to the phone when it lights up with her reply.

_Katniss: Maybe I want you to myself tonight ;)_

He nearly chokes on the mouthful of beer as he reads and rereads the words: _want you to myself._ If only she knew how much _he_ wanted _her _to himself.

"Fuck, Peeta, get your head in the game. You'll have plenty of time to look your fucking giant cock later when you're jerking off," Cato smirks, and Peeta glances up to six pairs of annoyed eyes waiting for him to play his next card. Swiftly, he throws down a two, tells Marvel to clear, throws his three kings and waits expectantly for anyone to match the move. When no one does, Marvel begrudgingly swipes the cards to the side, and Peeta plays his pair of aces.

"Fuck me," Finnick crows when he notices Peeta's empty hands. "That's another rule, Mr. President."

Peeta drains the last of his beer and shakes his head. "Nah, I'm out guys." His friends issue immediate protests and Cato mutters something under his breath about pussy, and Peeta can't tell if Cato's calling _him_ a pussy or if it's an insinuation Peeta's leaving them behind for a girl.

"C'mon, Peet. What gives?" Finnick leaps from his seat, cards still in his hand as Peeta walks towards the front door. "It's been awhile since we all hung out." His friend's tone is gentler than Finn's usual self-assured swagger, and there's genuine disappointment on his face. Peeta feels a little guilty, but as soon as he thinks about Katniss, the feeling dissipates and his resolve returns.

"It's nothing, Finn. Tomorrow, okay?"

Finnick's countenance shifts and he grins at Peeta. "I've got a date with Annie tomorrow night."

"Then next weekend," Peeta suggests, jamming his hands in his pockets. Finn studies him carefully.

"You have some fucking girl on the side that we don't know about? Cause that's about the only reason I could accept for you bailing on us." When Peeta hesitates for a fraction of a second too long, Finnick releases a low whistle through his teeth. "Who is it, Peet? Marvel's cousin? That German exchange student who eye fucked you all through lunch last week? Who? It's my civic duty as your friend to see that you're doing right by your dick."

Peeta glances back at the table of guys, who have abandoned their game of Asshole and are now playing Quarters. "It's not a girl, Finn," he lies, "I just gotta go. I'll catch up with you guys tomorrow." He leaves his friend standing on the front stoop. He's eventually he's going to have to fill Finnick in to his obsession with Katniss—just not tonight.

* * *

"I need Gummi bears," Katniss reminds him as they approach the concession stand and order their popcorn and soda. He grabs two ten-dollar bills from his wallet and hands them to the brunette behind the counter.

"And a bag of Gummi bears," he adds, giving Katniss a pointed look as she hides a smile behind the straw of her Coke. The pretty girl gives him a bright smile as she slides the candy across the counter and accepts the money. Peeta knows her name is Rhiannon even without looking at her name tag—which he does in order to discreetly check out her breasts—because Rye has been going on and on about her and her big tits. His brother is right—they're plenty big. But he still thinks he'd much prefer to feel Katniss's smaller breasts in his hands; he imagines they would fit perfectly in his palms.

"You're Rye's little brother aren't you?" she asks. Peeta glances over at his brother, who is tearing ticket stubs at the entrance to the theaters. He nods and she hands Peeta his change. "You guys look so much alike." She giggles. "Your brother is hot."

He feels his cheeks grown warm, but Katniss rolls her eyes. "C'mon Peeta." She grabs the popcorn and her Coke, and he smiles wryly at Rhiannon one more time before taking his own soda and Katniss's damn Gummi bears to follow Katniss towards where Rye stands beside Darius.

Peeta still gets a little irked anytime he sees Darius, though it seems the guy has long forgotten the incident with his nose. He's courteous to Katniss, smiling at her, and he gives them both a polite 'hello' as Rye pretends to tear two tickets and motions for them to enter. Still, Peeta makes it a point to shove the package of Gummi bears in his jeans pocket so he can place a hand on Katniss's back as they pass Darius.

They start down the aisle, the empty theater offering complete freedom in their choice of seats, but Katniss pauses beside the back row and tilts her head at him expectantly. His brows knit in confusion. "The back row? Really? Not our usual seats?" He gestures to the row behind the wheelchair-access seats, his preferred place to sit because of the added leg room.

"I want to sit back here tonight," she answers, not waiting for his reply. She maneuvers a few seats in and settles herself in one of the plush reclining chairs, setting her Coke in a cup holder.

He sighs and doesn't argue, carefully stepping past the empty seats to sit beside her. "Fuck, Katniss, do you always have to do that?" he grouses as she tears open the bag of chewy bears and dumps them over the top of the popcorn, shaking the bucket a few times to get them mixed in. "It's disgusting."

"You get one you just give it to me," she replies, shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth. He rolls his eyes and reaches for the popcorn, trying to ignore the direction his dirty mind goes at the latter few words. But when his hand brushes hers as she goes for another handful, he can't prevent the tightening in the crotch of his pants. Shit, everything she says or does seems to get him hard lately.

The theater slowly fills up about halfway to capacity, but they are the only ones in the back row when the lights fully dim and the previews begin. Katniss usually chatters to him about how stupid each movie looks or why the previews always give away the good parts, but she's quiet and eats her popcorn and Gummi bears in silence. Finally, she clears her throat and says casually, "So Gale kissed me tonight."

Peeta coughs violently, the Coke clogging his throat and sliding down the wrong pipe; his eyes begin to water and Katniss thumps him on the back hard, her palm yielding to slow circles between his shoulder blades. "Shit, Peeta, are you okay?" she asks, concern thick in her voice. He bobs his head silently, swallowing repeatedly until his breathing is regular and unhindered again.

"He what?" he hisses, hoping his tone hides the jealousy that surges through his veins, heating his blood. Katniss fiddles with the straw of the Coke they're sharing and chews her bottom lip.

"He kissed me."

"In the middle of a school gym?" Peeta asks, incredulous. Katniss snickers and shakes her head.

"No, dummy. We went outside for a few minutes because he said he wanted to talk to me."

"Kissing isn't talking," he replies, gripping the armrest of his seat a little tighter. Fuck. He knew Gale had his eye on Katniss. He _knew_ it.

"We talked first, would you let me finish? God." She huffs and flicks her braid back over her shoulder. "He asked me to go with him to the Senior Ball."

Peeta grunts his disapproval and plunges his hand into the bag of popcorn, cursing when it lands on a stupid Gummi bear. He withdraws it and is surprised to feel Katniss's fingers wrap around his hand and guide it to her mouth. She smirks at him and takes the candy between her teeth, her tongue flicking against his skin for a fraction of a second, but it's enough to cause his pulse to stutter and his dick to stiffen again. His throat is suddenly like sandpaper and he swallows a few times to form his words. "And what did you say?"

She shrugs. "You know I hate those stupid dances. It's just a bunch of horny teenagers dry humping each other on the dance floor until they can get an overpriced hotel room and lose their virginity having awkward sex like in some bad 80s movie."

"So you said no," he states, relief washing over him.

"Yeah, I said no, and that's when he got all sappy on me," she begins, and as she softly regales Peeta with the details of Gale's profession of love to her—she pauses once to flip off the elderly couple in front of them who shushes her—Peeta finds himself getting increasingly more nauseated. The things Gale said to Katniss are mostly the same things _he_ has been yearning to say to Katniss. And now that Gale has beat him to an outpouring of bottled up feelings, he looks like a total shithead if he makes the same declaration. "And that's when he kissed me." She chews on her lip again, watching him expectantly.

"I see." That's all he can manage to say.

The elderly couple turns around again as the lights fully dim, indicating the previews have ended and the movie is beginning. Katniss makes a face at the backs of their seats and purposefully kicks the one in front of her, feigning a sarcastic apology when the couple rises and makes a big production of moving several rows ahead of them. But she doesn't say anything more about Gale.

As they watch the start of the film, Peeta finds it hard to concentrate on the silly plot with all that she just dumped on him. Did she like kissing Gale? Is she going to do it again? What if she decides to go out with him? Peeta's not sure he can stomach watching Gale Hawthorne wrap his big hulking arms around Katniss's tiny frame, and he feels like vomiting at the thought of her kissing him and his hands on her breasts and her undressing for him and giving herself to him…oh, God. He really might be sick; his stomach pitches violently.

"This movie sucks," she whispers, cutting into his frantic thoughts.

"Beggars can't be choosers when you get in for free," he shoots back, but his next words die on his lips when he realizes she has set down the popcorn bucket and is leaning over the armrest, eyes shining in the dim light.

"Kiss me?"

The two words are like a lightning rod to his groin, paralyzing him in place. What the fuck? Since that night last summer, Katniss has not said a word about kissing him or given any indication that she wanted to do it again. After a few uncomfortable days around her right after it happened, they had settled into their usual rhythm of hanging out, playing Xbox online and swimming in his pool. She had never gone out with Darius again, and other than hanging out with Gale frequently, he didn't know of any other dates she had been on in the last eight or nine months.

Peeta, on the other hand, had hooked up with a few girls throughout sophomore year, though nothing more than intense kissing and some over-the-clothes foreplay, and most times he had been drinking when he did so. At Marvel's New Year's Eve party, he definitely could have fucked Marvel's cousin, who had flirted with him all night before dragging his drunken ass into one of the spare bedrooms. But when they began a sloppy makeout session and he closed his eyes, his vision swam with silver eyes and raven waves and he thought about Katniss, stranded at the Hawthornes house. He had hastily made up a lame excuse about the Jello shots making him ill and left the party alone.

It's those silver orbs that are riveted to his at the moment, beseechingly probing his. The request has certainly caught him off-guard—didn't she just finish telling him Gale had kissed her? What kind of game is she playing? But when she purses her lips at him, beckoning him, damned if she has to ask him twice.

He meets her between the seats and their mouths connect in a slippery embrace. Her lips are slick from the artificial butter, and when she parts them and coaxes his tongue inside, she tastes salty from the popcorn and sweet from the Gummi bears and just _so fucking good_. He licks around her mouth, her tongue retreating to give him better access, nibbling at his lips eagerly. He cradles her jaw in his hands, lightly grazing his thumbs over her cheekbones, and she lets out a little moan of approval. Her own hands rake through his hair, her fingertips massaging his scalp as the kiss continues to intensify.

When he breaks the embrace to suck in a gulp of air, she pulls back, her eyes glassy and her own breath escaping her swollen lips in ragged puffs. "Yeah. Wow," she whispers. "That's what it's supposed to feel like."

He's confused. "What? What's supposed to feel like that?"

"Kissing. I mean, kissing you. I remember it being really good, and when Gale kissed me earlier tonight…I dunno. It was weird. I felt nothing. It was…ugh. I mean the kiss wasn't that long and he definitely knew what he was doing but…I told him I didn't feel anything and…that it was like kissing my brother. And he said…"

"Katniss, shut up," he admonishes her, his cock throbbing. The last thing he wants to talk about right now is Gale—even if Peeta knows he's the probably the only reason she's even kissing him at the moment. He's more than willing to be part of whatever weird little experiment she's conducting, and he's going to be a greedy bastard about it. He boldly takes the initiative to tip her head to the side and press heated kisses along the slope of her neck. He hears her breath hitch and her eyelids flutter rapidly as she draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Fuck you're good at this," she murmurs, tugging at his curls to guide his mouth back to hers. Her body strains over the seat, and he clutches at the small of her back, the fabric of her shirt in his fingers as he tries to get her as close to him as possible—which isn't easy given the obtrusive armrest. "How are you so good at this?"

It doesn't sound like a question she needs answered, so instead, he slips his tongue past her teeth again and kisses her thoroughly again, savoring the taste of her. She's making those breathy little moans that she did in his room last summer, and each one earns a pulse from his cock in response. He's so fucking hard right now it's not even funny.

She pulls away and leans up, her warm breath skating over the shell of his ear. "Can we go to your car? Like, now?" _Fuck. Is she serious? _His mind reels with all the possibilities of what could transpire being in his car with her. When he swallows to regain some control over his tongue before answering her, she blurts out, "I mean you don't care if we see the end of this, right?"

"You want to keep kissing me?" he asks incredulously.

She hesitates, her grey eyes heavy with something he's never seen before. But she nods slowly and reaches down to his lap to lace her fingers through his, perilously close to his aching erection. "Let's go," she urges, yanking him out of the seat, not even bothering to dispose of their trash. When he protests, she laughs quietly and says, "Let Rye clean it up."

He's never moved so fast in his life. Her hand clutches at his and he actually says a quick prayer that they don't pass Rye on the way through the lobby.

When they reach his car, he fumbles in his pocket for the key fob to unlock it, and she clamors into the backseat, looking up at him expectantly. He slides in and slams the door, and her lips are on his again. He groans and wraps his arms around her, the confined space of the backseat impeding his movements. "Lie down," he orders softly, inching her body back until she is stretched out lengthwise along the seat. Shifting himself over her, he descends on her and she rises up to meet him.

He revels in how perfectly their mouths seem to move in sync. As her hands splay out over his shoulder blades, she bucks against him and he swallows her moan when she makes contact with his hard on. He wants to grab her hand and place it against the bulge in his jeans, but he doesn't want to scare her off.

"I could kiss you for hours," she whispers, pressing her lips against his ear. His stomach flips and he crushes her to him tighter, her breasts flattening against his chest, and he can feel her heart knocking rapidly.

"Well if your curfew is still midnight…" he begins, and she trails her lips along his jaw, shaking her head lightly.

"Don't care. I'll sneak in. My mom worked a double yesterday so she'll be dead to the world if she's even home." She licks at his lips and he parts them, drawing her tongue inside, and she still tastes like butter and salt. Her fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he lets his own finger trace the delicate line of her collarbone, resisting the urge to dip beneath the neckline of her t-shirt.

They both lose track of time as they kiss, but the revving of an engine causes her to push him away gently. He glances out the window and sees the car beside them backing out of the space. A quick peek at his watch tells him that it's now after midnight. "I'd better get you home," he murmurs, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips, her eyes showing what he thinks might be regret.

"Okay," she agrees and he helps her out of the car, opening the passenger side door for her. She smiles at him and settles inside. As he crosses around to the driver side, he adjusts his hard on and thinks that for the first time since he's known Katniss Everdeen, he has a shred of hope that she might want him too.

* * *

_Thanks for ILoveRynMar, __streetlightlove and IzzySamson for their support and valuable 'two cents' on this. Love you gals._

_Thanks for reading. ~C~_


	3. Chapter 3, Part I-Look Down and See

**_Author's Note: _**Okay, so another beast of a chapter. I followed my outline and when I hit 20,000 words I gave up and chopped it in half. This was not an easy chapter to write at times...so I remind you, this is Everlark endgame and you can ask RynMar, the epilogue is written and I swear it is deliriously happy.

I also could not get Dierks Bentley's _Bourbon in Kentucky _out of my head as I wrote the bachelor party. So if you're inclined, check out those lyrics.

THG belongs to Suzanne Collins; chapter rated M for sexual situations and language.

Rest of the notes to follow...enjoy.

* * *

_"Look Down and See Your Face on My Phone", Part I_

_~Now~_

_(26 years old)_

* * *

Peeta leans his head against the cab window, watching the street signs pass as the boardwalk comes into view and the familiar scent of the ocean air permeates the car, even with the windows closed.

Katniss had driven him to the train station after they had cleaned up—having sex one more time in the shower when they did so—and he swears his lips are still tingling from the intense kiss she gave him before she waved goodbye and drove off.

He spent the entire train ride thinking about the shift in things between them over the past few weeks. For the entire time that that they've been sleeping together, it's never been with the frequency and passion it has been since Katniss's birthday. He can't put a finger on what—if anything—has caused this change, but the increase in sex has brought into alarming clarity just how toxic their arrangement has become.

The cab pulls up in front of the Borgata, and he thanks the driver, handing over the fare and a generous tip. He shoots Finn a quick text to let him know he's there, but as he walks into the lobby, he finds Brutus sitting by the concierge desk, clearly waiting for him

"About fucking time, buddy," Brutus calls, rising from the leather couch and crossing towards him. "The guys got tired of waiting and went ahead to the club."

"Well, thanks for hanging." They slap hands and walk over to the elevator so Peeta can take his things to the suite. "How was the party bus?" Brutus punches the button for their floor and grins wickedly as the elevator starts to ascend.

"Worth every damn cent. And fucking hell, you missed a show. Nice touch getting the stripper for the ride. Finn nearly shit his pants when we got pulled over and the 'cop' boarded the bus and gave him a lap dance," he snickers. Peeta laughs as they walk down the hallway to their room. Brutus slides the magnetic room key through the slot and opens the door to reveal an expansive suite that already looks as if a tornado blew through it. Two empty bottles of Patrón and an array of beer bottles litter the wet bar and one of the chairs near the window has been overturned. A heady brew of alcohol and comingling colognes permeate the air.

"Fuck, what did you guys do in here?" Peeta gapes at the scene, setting down his overnight bag. Brutus reaches into the mini-fridge and withdraws another Heineken, holding one out to Peeta. He holds up his hands, recalling the little rhyme about 'beer before liquor' and decides just to go right for the hard stuff when he gets to the club.

"Cato might have brought the stripper up here with us." He takes a long pull of the beer and smirks. "I'm pretty sure he fucked her in that bedroom." He points to one of the doors behind them. Peeta groans and starts to voice his displeasure, but Brutus holds up his hands. "She was a totally willing participant, Peet. Relax."

"I guess he got over his breakup with that flight attendant just fine." Peeta has never known Cato to stay with a woman for longer than a few weeks. He had dated Glimmer on and off all throughout high school, but college had split them up for good. His most recent relationship had been going on eight months, and Cato had seemed so into the girl that it shocked all of them when she coldly dumped him by changing her Facebook status two days ago.

"Oh yeah, he'll be in rare form this weekend," Brutus agrees. "The people at Scores have no idea what they're in for tomorrow night."

Peeta's phone vibrates in his pocket as they're returning to the elevator to head down to MIXX, the posh club in the hotel. He pulls it out and studies the screen.

_Katniss: hope you arrived safely. have fun this weekend. miss you already._

He frowns and slides his phone back into his pocket, then thinks twice and taps back a quick 'thanks'—but nothing else. Brutus raises an eyebrow at him.

"Something wrong?"

"What? Oh, no. Just, ah, Katniss. She told me to have fun."

A strange smile crosses Brutus's rugged face. "Katniss. Hey, has she, um, said anything about me lately?"

Peeta furrows his brows and gives his friend a curious look. "No, why?" Brutus's face falls slightly and he leans back against the elevator wall.

"I just thought our date went pretty well the other night, and I haven't heard back from her, that's all. Haven't seen her around work either."

He has to fight to keep his jaw from dropping and his disbelief from overflowing. Katniss had a date with Brutus? "When was this?" he asks as calmly as he can in spite of the surge of jealousy that crackles through him.

"Tuesday night."

Peeta closes his eyes briefly, envisioning the enthusiastic blowjob he got from Katniss when she showed up at his apartment that same evening and the incredibly passionate sex that had followed. He also remembers asking her about how her date was moments before she went down on him and her simple reply: "the worst." She had merely failed to mention the source of the bad date.

And then he pictures the last three words of her text: 'miss you already.' It's such a 'girlfriend' thing to write and for some reason, coupled with this harsh reminder that she went out with his _friend_ for fuck's sake—well, it irritates him. It irritates him a lot, and it spurs a hollow ache in his chest.

"Peet? You okay?" The elevator dings, and Brutus motions for him to exit first.

"Ah, yeah, I'm fine. I didn't know you had asked her out. Cause she kind of tells me everything and she never mentioned it." He can't resist getting in that little dig.

Brutus pauses near the entrance to the club and gives Peeta a perplexed look. "You don't mind, do you? I know you guys are so close and it might get a little weird if I actually started dating Katniss, but I mean I see her nearly every day and she's gotten really fucking hot since high school and—"

Peeta clenches his jaw. Brutus is a police officer and Panem's finest have their headquarters in the same municipal complex as the parks department. Katniss's temporary trailer is even closer to the station, situated behind their parking lot. Peeta never stopped to think her path crossed his that frequently—or that Brutus could have been checking her out on a daily basis. Another curl of jealousy tugs at him, but he shrugs indifferently. "It's fine, Brutus. Katniss is a big girl. She can do whatever she wants." He refrains from telling his friend the less-than-glowing review Katniss gave their date and it placates him only a little to assume that there probably won't be another.

He flashes his ID at the attractive, curvy young girl who is flanked by two beefy bouncers at the club's entrance She gives him a coy smile and waves him in; Brutus follows a moment later and they meander through the crowds to a VIP lounge near the rear of the club where the bottle service has already started flowing.

"There's my best man!" Finnick shouts, struggling to stand up on the plush bench and Peeta waves at him to stay seated. His friend's eyes are glassy and his copper curls are disheveled and there is little more than a swig left in the massive bottle of Patrón that rests on the table. "Bout fucking time, Peet!" Finnick lunges over Thresh and envelops Peeta in a fierce hug, and he can smell the stench of tequila wafting off the groom-to-be.

"Sorry," he apologizes, slapping hands with Thresh and nodding his greetings to the rest of the guys, save for Cato who seems to be missing. "Better late than never, right?"

"Fuck yes! Get this man a drink!" Finnick yells.

A comely, tall blonde with perfect breasts spilling over the deep V-neck of her tight black t-shirt appears at their table. She leans forward, giving Peeta an eyeful of her cleavage. "Just when I thought this group couldn't get any hotter. Hey, handsome. What can I get you?"

"We need another bottle of Patrón," Marvel slurs. "And get this pussy a glass of apple juice or something. In a sippy cup."

The waitress gives Peeta a sympathetic grin and pushes her breasts together even more. "Name your poison, gorgeous. Or are you sticking with the tequila?"

Peeta flashes her a winsome grin. He could so easily get this girl into bed if he made the slightest effort to do so. He lets his eyes dart to her chest and winks at her. "Let's start with a Jack and Coke."

Finnick motions to the waitress. "Bring a round of Car Bombs with the tequila and his whiskey. Peeta's got some catching up to do since he thought his little fuck toy was more important than riding down here with the rest of us."

_Shit_. "Shut the fuck up, Finn." He laughs, trying to play it off, but he gives Finnick a visual warning, widening his eyes and shooting him a look that tells his friend to keep quiet. Finn has a bad habit of getting chatty when he's drunk—and he's well past drunk.

But Finnick's loose lips clearly do not go unnoticed by his friends. "Peet? You've got someone you've been seeing?" Thresh asks, his dark eyes glittering with a mix of surprise and approval. They all seem to murmur their curiosity, but Peeta is not about to get into this and let his complicated situation with Katniss take away from Finnick's good time.

"I was not with my 'fuck toy,' Finn, thank you very much." He levels Finnick with another glare, one that says 'we'll talk later' and he fiddles with the edge of a beverage napkin. "And I'm not seeing anyone." Neither statement is a total lie: if anything, he feels like _he's_ the fuck toy—and they're _not_ seeing each other.

"That waitress sure gave you the look," Marvel snorts. "If you'd ever do anything about all the women that throw themselves at you, you'd be George-fucking-Clooney, Peet."

"Nah, Peeta's already George-fucking-Clooney. That dude is 50-something-years-old, he gets quality ass, and he's never settling down," Finnick says, slurring his words, but Peeta catches the knowing lilt to them in spite of his friend's inebriated state. He takes a quick glance around the table. Brutus is the only one other than him—and Cato, who is still MIA—who isn't in a serious relationship. Thresh got married last summer, Thom and Delly are engaged; Marvel has been with his girlfriend for two years and Peeta expects an engagement is imminent as well.

"When I find the right woman you assholes will be the first to know," Peeta snaps. "But can we please get the focus of tonight off me and back onto Finn where it belongs?"

The buxom waitress returns with a tray brimming with their shots and a second server—a petite redhead with equally large breasts that are completely disproportionate to her tiny frame—sidles up behind the blonde, bearing the bottle of Patrón and Peeta's Jack and Coke. She places it down ceremoniously in front of him, her green eyes raking over him in approval. He curls his lips into a lazy smile and locks his gaze on her as he throws back the tumbler and downs the drink in one swallow. Her eyes widen and she licks her glossy lips. "Might as well bring me another," he murmurs, his smile broadening, and she nods, retreating from the table. The blonde doles out their shots and the half-filled pints of Guinness and pauses, one hand on her hip.

"What else can I get you guys?" She addresses the entire group, but Peeta feels her eyes riveted to his as she gives him a sultry smile.

"Just don't go too far away," Finnick orders. "We're gonna keep you pretty busy all night."

"Fine by me," she winks, hips swinging as she retreats. The short skirt barely covers her ass, and Peeta feels his groin stir as he watches her disappear into the crowd.

"Bottoms up, bitches!" Marvel yells, and they all reach for the shot glasses, dropping the whiskey-cream mixture into the pints. Peeta downs the concoction in two long swallows and slams the empty glass on the table. A pleasant buzz is starting to dull his senses and heat his veins, and the drunker he gets, the faster he hopes he'll stop thinking about Katniss and the dangerous crossroads they're approaching.

He feels hot breath on his neck and inhales the sharp scent of cloying perfume before the words hit the shell of his ear. "I get off work in an hour," the blonde purrs, setting down his next Jack and Coke in front of him. "You look like you might be fun."

"I've been told I'm good at everything I do," he replies, invoking the compliment that Katniss has lobbed in his direction for years. Why does everything come back to Katniss? The woman is like a drug, coursing through his veins—he needs to get her out of his system. Burying himself inside another woman who he'll likely never see again sounds like a good start.

She giggles breathily. "I'm Cashmere," she whispers. "There's a small lounge around back that is roped off for an after-hours party. I'll wait for you there?"

He smirks and knocks back the whiskey, slowly dragging his tongue along his bottom lip. "I'll be there." Peeta catches Finnick watching them, and his friend's bleary vision focuses on him, a look of astonishment on his face. Then his mouth twists into a smirk of his own and he nods deliberately, raising his glass.

But an hour later, with his tongue in Cashmere's mouth and his hands in her overly-processed blonde locks and her huge breasts threating to breach the top of her low-cut tank, his mind will not stop wandering back to Katniss.

He thinks about Katniss when Cashmere lowers herself to her knees and yanks down the zipper of his jeans, urging his dick into her hands before taking him in her lip-gloss sticky mouth. She is a bit too aggressive, her teeth scraping his shaft several times and he winces once when her long fingernails dig into his sac. She sucks readily and pauses several times to praise how big he is, but he can only hear Katniss's familiar voice whispering the same words.

"Are you getting close?" she asks, looking up at him. By now, her eye makeup has smeared and her cheeks are flushed. "Cause I really want to fuck you and I don't want you coming yet."

"I'm not close, no," he replies, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall as her mouth suctions around him again. The tingling sensation ebbs and flows but with all that he's had to drink, he's not even sure he can get off at the moment.

"Good," she purrs and gives him one last lick before standing and crushing her lips to his. "Are you okay with doing this here? Unless you have a room we can use…"

"No." His cock starts to soften even as she peels down her tank top and his gaze settles on her tits. She takes one of his hands and roughly thrusts her breast into his palm, and when he squeezes, she moans loudly and though he gets hard again, the feel of her implants is nothing like the soft, supple flesh of Katniss's breasts. "Too many guys sharing my room. Gonna have to be here."

"Okay," she agrees, nipping at the flesh of his neck as she reaches down and pushes up her skirt. "The door's locked."

"Wait," he orders. "I don't have anything with me." He hasn't used a condom with Katniss since they were in high school, but he's always diligent about doing so when he's with anyone else. Cashmere mutters a curse under her breath and breaks away from him, crossing the dim little room to rummage through a bowl on the lacquered counter to return with a shiny foil packet. He takes it from her, ripping it open and sheathing the condom down over his length—he doesn't want her to do it.

She doesn't even bother to remove her panties, shoving them aside as she positions him to enter her and he does so with a swift thrust. Her moans are a little much, and as he brings her leg up and drapes it over the crook of his elbow, he discovers she's not nearly as tight as Katniss.

As he continues to pump into the waitress with the stupid name, he gets angry that he can't keep thinking about Katniss. He shouldn't have to be fucking a random woman in a club lounge to try to forget the girl he's loved for nearly his whole life; he should be asleep in a bed with her beside him—in _their_ bed—blissfully wrapped in her arms after a quiet night at home, making love into the early hours of the morning.

And then as he remembers the conversation he had with Brutus earlier in the evening, he becomes irate. He's not sure if he could have held back from punching Brutus right in the face if he knew his friend had slept with Katniss. With the sickening chasm widening in his stomach, he realizes he has no idea how many other guys Katniss has been with, how many other guys have also made her scream their names in ecstasy the way she always does with him.

Fuck. He's not sure whether it's the alcohol or the insidious thoughts of Katniss that keeps his release at bay, but he's had enough and he no longer cares if he even comes. He shoves his hand between Cashmere's legs and roughly rubs her clit, relieved when she yelps in pleasure and the fluttering around his cock tells him it's over. She clings to his shoulders, whimpering and murmuring her approval, but he can't withdraw from her fast enough.

"Wait, you didn't…" she starts to protest, but he pulls off the unused prophylactic and shakes his head.

"It's okay. I've had too much to drink, it's not your fault," he lies.

And it's not. It's _her_ fault.

* * *

_~Then~_

_Junior Prom (17 years old)_

* * *

The neon yellow flier is the first thing Peeta sees when he trudges to his locker Monday morning. It's tacked to the wall beside his row of lockers, declaring in bold black letters that Junior Prom tickets will be on sale beginning Wednesday in the cafeteria during all lunches. There are a few smaller lines of print with the date and the venue and the price of the ticket, but Peeta's eyes remained fixed on the two big words at the top: Junior Prom. He knew the annual dance was approaching, but seeing it displayed so prominently gives rise to a flurry of apprehension buzzing in his veins.

He's dying to ask Katniss to go to the prom with him. But his best friend has long made clear that these kind of social events are not her scene, and Peeta remembers the fall-out from her rejection of Gale's invitation to his senior ball last year all too well. Gale and Katniss's friendship has been strained ever since, though perhaps some of that could be him being away at college this year. He wonders if things will be different when Gale gets back from Pitt in a few days. Still, he can't fathom doing anything that could jeopardize his own friendship with Katniss.

A pair of hands covers his eyes, and when he inhales the sweet scent of honeysuckle that's in her hand soap, he knows it's her. "You'd better not be staring at that stupid prom poster," she breathes. A shiver slides down his spine at the proximity of her lips to his ear and the knowledge that with one more step her breasts would be crushed against his back. He keeps his eyes closed for a fraction of a second when she laughs and removes her hands, willing himself to think of anything but her to keep his jeans from getting any tighter.

Katniss leans against the wall, one hand on her hip as he gives her a weak smile and fumbles with the combination on his locker. "What's wrong with you?" she asks, narrowing those quicksilver eyes at him.

"Huh? Oh, nothing, nothing," he echoes, tossing his backpack inside and pulling out his chemistry textbook and a notebook. She twists her lips at him in a knowing smirk.

"C'mon Peeta. I know when you're deep in thought. Were you thinking about Junior Prom?" she teases in a singsong voice.

He can't lie to her. He's never been able to lie to her—oh, except for that little part about how he's been in love with her for years. "Maybe I was," he replies, shrugging his shoulders and slamming his locker. Katniss hoists her own tattered backpack higher and follows him when he turns on his heel and begins walking to his first period class.

"Hey," she protests, stepping into his path, her voice soft. "Relax. It's okay. It's not a big deal if you were."

He scans her face and she quirks up her lips at him, and that little smile is enough to melt away his anxiety to tell her the truth. "I kind of want to go," he admits, his heart starting to thrum as he prepares his next words in his head. He needs to sell the night as a rite of passage, just as something she'll regret if she doesn't do and that there's no reason why they can't go as friends and have fun together. And then if they get there and the sight of her all dressed up does things to him and he seizes the moment to _finally _tell her how he feels…

Her eyes sparkle with amusement and she wrinkles her nose. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"I figured you'd want to go," she laughs. "You're such a sap, Peeta."

He frowns and pauses when they reach his chemistry class—she has study hall first period, which is clear on the other side of the building, but she never seems too concerned with being late, as she always walks him to class each morning. "I just feel like it's something all teenagers are supposed to do," he supplies. It's a safe answer—testing the waters with one toe first.

She snorts lightly, a disdainful expression crossing her lovely face. "That's a pretty stupid reason for doing anything."

"You really have no desire to go?" She sighs and opens her mouth to reply when the shrill ringing of the bell directly above their heads startles them both and she motions to his classroom.

"I'll see you at lunch," she answers, and Peeta nods and reluctantly enters the room to settle on the stool at his lab table. Mr. Beetee is a stickler for promptness, and he loves nothing more than handing out lunch detentions. And since Peeta fully intends to continue his conversation with Katniss when he sees her again in a few hours the last thing he'd need this morning is a late slip.

He's lost in thought about the best way to get Katniss to agree to put aside her vehement hatred for dances and go with him to the prom when Mr. Beetee declares that he's changing lab partners for the final time for the year and the switches he's about to make are permanent. Peeta groans because his current partner, Cecilia French, is quiet and easy to work with and cares just as much about her grades and GPA as he does about his. There are plenty of slackers in the class who will force him to do all the work or have his average in the class suffer if he doesn't. He's relieved when he hears his name called and Madge Undersee's name follows it seconds later. Madge is as studious as Cecelia. He can definitely work with her.

He hasn't even had a chance to pick up his textbooks before Cecilia tells him that she'll move, and he gives the willowy brunette an appreciative smile as she vacates her seat and moves to a lab station across the room.

"Hey," Madge grins as she deposits her textbooks on the lab table and tosses her backpack under the stool.

"Hi," he returns, sliding his things over to make room for the graduated cylinders they'll need for the day's assignment.

"I'm so happy we're partners," she whispers as Mr. Beetee starts reeling off directions and distributing papers. "I need a few more good marks to end this semester and try to qualify for Honor Society. My dad's giving me shit about not having enough on my transcripts for my application to U Penn."

"Yeah, my mom's been riding me about getting more volunteer hours. She forgets that when I coach that youth soccer team each fall I'm not paid so I can count that."

She sighs. "Parents suck sometimes."

They work together in silence for a few minutes, Madge carefully adding the right chemicals to the beaker and charting the reactions when Peeta feels his phone vibrate against his thigh. He debates peeking at it—Mr. Beetee has an even stricter policy regarding cell phones in class than he does for tardiness. Casually reaching into his pocket, he inconspicuously slides out his phone just enough to see Katniss's name in the text bubble. He shoves it back and knits his brows, debating what to do. He could sign out under the guise of going to the bathroom and see what she wants, though he can't imagine it's nothing that can't wait thirty more minutes. But on the other hand, he always answers her texts promptly, and he doesn't want her to think he's upset with her over anything.

"So, are you going to prom?"

"Wh—what?" he stammers. Madge's blue eyes fix on his from behind the safety goggles and she gives him an expectant smile, the small dimple in her left cheek visible.

"Prom," she repeats, jotting down more numbers on their worksheet. "Are you going?"

"Oh, ah, I hadn't thought about it yet," he lies, grabbing the sheet from her to work out a few calculations. "Is this right?" He slides the sheet back to her.

"Looks like it," she agrees. "Let's move on to the next part of the experiment." He rises from his stool and moves to the tiny sink at their station, carefully disposing of the chemicals and rinsing the beakers thoroughly. When he pivots to grab a paper towel, she's already by his side and he accidentally brushes against her arm.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," she says, waving an arm dismissively. "About prom again…"

He swallows, an uncomfortable feeling seizing him as he fears where she is going with this not-so-casual interrogation. "What about it?"

And for the second time that morning, a bell interrupts, though this time he's thankful for the intrusion. The loud shrieks of the fire alarm blare through the classroom, and Peeta follows Madge and the rest of his class outside for the monthly safety drill. Once he's lined up and Mr. Beetee's back is to him after having taken roll and counted numbers, he grabs his phone and checks Katniss's message.

_Katniss: wanna eat lunch outside today? so nice I'd rather not be in that cafeteria_

He scans the sea of students congregated on the rear lawn of the school, looking for Katniss among the crooked lines of classes, but he doesn't see her.

_Peeta_: _Sure. The usual place?_

He quickly shoves the phone back in his pocket when Mr. Beetee begins to impatiently pace up and down the line, waiting for the bell to announce it's safe for them to return to the building. The chemistry teacher takes any fire drill or lockdown drill as a personal infringement on his teaching time.

"Beetee looks like he's gonna have a coronary," Madge hisses over her shoulder, a sly smile on her face. Peeta glances at Mr. Beetee again, the teacher's pacing increasing as he mumbles under his breath. He laughs and nods.

"Yeah, but none of us could call 911 to save him or we'd get written up for using our cell phones," he jokes back. She giggles. As the bell shrills and everyone begins to file back into the building, he finally notices Katniss a few lines away, and she appears to be looking around. He gives her a little wave, but whether she sees him or not, she doesn't wave back as she mounts the stairs and disappears into the school.

Fortunately the fire drill ate into enough of the period that he and Madge have to work diligently to complete the lab assignment and thus, there is no idle chitchat and she doesn't have the chance bring up the prom again. When the bell rings and they hand in their report, she loiters near the door and gives him a tentative smile. "Maybe I'll see you at lunch today?"

"Oh," he hedges, raking a hand through his hair, "I'm, um, eating outside with Katniss." He knows Katniss likes Madge well enough, and she has joined them for lunch many days, but he really doesn't want anyone imposing on their time together today.

"Okay," she replies brightly. "I'll look for you guys." Her smile widens and she wiggles her fingers at him and flounces off down the hallway. He sighs and leans against the nearest row of lockers. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

Because of the nice weather, the courtyard is crowded by lunch, but Peeta easily finds a spot on the expansive grassy area in front of the school. He unpacks his lunch and bites into his apple, waiting for Katniss and praying that Madge doesn't show.

His heart swells and his palms begin to sweat as he spies Katniss striding across the lawn towards him. Her well-worn jeans cling to her hips in all the right places, and the dark green t-shirt she wears seems tighter than usual. Not that he's complaining—it gives him a perfect view of her breasts. Her hair, which had been woven into its usual braid that morning, now tumbles past her shoulder in loose waves; he loves it when she wears her hair down.

"Hey." She grins, sitting down next to him and bumping his shoulder lightly with hers.

He smiles back. "Hi." She shrugs off her backpack and unzips the front compartment, pulling out a bottle of water and a granola bar. He grabs her wrist and meets her eyes. "Is that your whole lunch, Katniss?" She looks down and draws her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them, her fingers rubbing lightly over the faded denim.

"My mom—my mom hasn't been to the grocery store in a few days. I gave Prim the last of the peanut butter and jelly for her lunch even though she gave me shit about having to sit away from her friends who have nut allergies."

"You have to eat better," he scolds her, picking up his own turkey and Swiss on Focaccia and offering half of it to her. She shakes her head stubbornly, and he narrows his eyes at her. "Eat it, Katniss. Or I'll shove it down your throat," he threatens playfully. She sighs and accepts the sandwich, taking a small bite and moaning in appreciation.

"God your dad makes the best sandwiches." She chews and swallows. "Is that pesto spread?"

"Yes, it is, and I'll have you know I made this sandwich myself."

She shakes her head again and takes another bite, this one larger. "It's not fair. Why are you so good at everything you do?"

He feels a flush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks and sips his iced tea. He's not really—at least not according to his mother. Neither he or Rye can ever really expect to match up to their older brother, Phyl, who graduated _summa cum laude_ from Princeton a few weeks ago and now has the tough choice of where to go to med school: Harvard, Stanford or Duke. His mother has always wanted a doctor in the family; now at least the pressure is off for it to be Peeta. It was never going to be Rye, who barely finished his freshman year at Georgia. His free-spirited brother enjoyed college—and fraternity—life a little too much and nearly failed out. He's home for the summer now, back working at the movie theater and already getting under their mother's skin.

"So those idiotic prom posters haven't even been up for a day and I'm already sick of hearing about it," she complains. "I wanted to gouge my eyes out with my pencil listening to Glimmer and her little army of skanks giggle about it all through study hall. Honestly those bitches never shut up and they talk about the most vapid shit."

"I'm sure Cato will ask her. Then they can be unbearable together," Peeta replies, chewing the last bite of his sandwich thoughtfully. He studies Katniss carefully as he talks. The sunlight gleams off her shiny dark locks just so, and from his vantage beside her, he can admire her flawless olive complexion—Katniss has skin most girls would kill for—and she needs no makeup. He remembers his thumbs gliding over those cheekbones last spring when they made out in his car. It was the second—and last time to date—that he kissed her.

"It's gonna suck listening to people go on and on about it for the next month," she continues, plucking at a blade of grass and letting her fingers brush over the fluff of a dandelion, the little seeds lifting and dancing away on the whisper of the breeze in the air.

He takes a deep breath and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. "So you haven't changed your mind about going?"

"Hell no," she answers with a laugh. "Seriously, Peeta. A fancy dance is the last place I belong. Ugh. That's what I told Gale last year, and thank God he found someone else to take by the time my mother tried to force me to go with him." She frowns at the memory and leans back on her elbows, gazing up at the clouds piping across the clear blue sky. "We can have an anti-prom at my house. My mom probably won't be home to bother us."

"Anti-prom?" he asks doubtfully.

"You know, watch _Carrie or Prom Night_ and order a ton of greasy food and just laugh together." His heart sinks. She's thought this through. She has a whole evening planned—one that definitively does not involve attending a school dance with him. "Come on, doesn't that sound like more fun than overpaying for a bad meal and dancing to a lame deejay and watching the cheerleaders fight over who gets voted Prom Queen?"

"Uh, maybe," he answers, though he hears disappointment coloring his voice. But she doesn't seem to notice and just like that, the conversation is over and she's chattering on about whether or not Rye can help get her a job at the movie theater for the summer.

He never does get the courage to flat out ask her to go with him by day's end, which bites him in the ass when Madge corners him the next morning at his locker.

"Peeta, hey!" she smiles, her white teeth gleaming. "Want to walk to class with me?"

He hesitates and cranes his neck to see if Katniss is approaching. Madge's face teems with hopefulness, and he gives her a wry smile in return as he closes his locker. What's he supposed to say? I'm waiting for Katniss? How would that look? Katniss is not his girlfriend—guys _wait_ for their girlfriends. With a last look down the hallway, he nods. "Sure, let's go."

"So," she says, drawing out the 'o' as they start off for Mr. Beetee's classroom, "I had wanted to ask you yesterday, but we kept getting interrupted. Do you, um, have a date for the prom?"

_Oh, fuck._ His heart skips a beat and his pulse quickens as he braces to answer her. "Ah, no, I don't."

Her face lifts. "Were you, ah, planning to ask anyone or would you like to go with me?"

Well there it is. Her bluntness surprises him—he definitely did not expect _her _to ask him. The blood rushes to his ears so quickly that the noise is deafening and he thinks his heart might actually stop. Madge is persistent—he'll give her that. "Ah, wow, Madge. Um, like I told you yesterday, I hadn't really thought about it yet."

"Oh," she replies, and he hears the uncertainty heavy in her voice. Her lip twitches and it makes him feel so guilty that he almost wants to say yes just to keep from hurting her. She's a nice girl. They're friends; what harm is there in going with a friend? Wasn't that what he wanted to do with Katniss—in spite of his ulterior motives?

And as if to spur his decision, his phone rings at that exact moment, and from the ring tone, he knows it's Katniss. He quickly silences the phone as he holds up a finger to Madge and answers the call. Madge loiters beside him for a moment, but then she slips into the classroom and leaves him to talk in private. He's grateful to her for that—it will give him once last chance to ask Katniss about the dance.

"Hey, where are you?" he asks, keeping his voice casual.

"Prim's sick. She threw up all night. I gotta stay home with her."

"Where's your mother?"

"She's working today. She told me to just leave Prim, but I can't Peeta. She looks so miserable. If it was just a cold or something, I would, but…" She trails off and sighs. "Can you get my homework for me?"

He closes his eyes, trying to quell the annoyance he feels at Mrs. Everdeen. "Sure. I'll bring it by after school."

"Thanks, Peeta. You're the best." He hears a violent gagging sound on the other end of the receiver, and Katniss curses quietly. "Shit, I have to go."

"Katniss, wait," he blurts. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the prom?"

She makes a noise that is somewhere in between a snort and a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure. I gotta go take care of Prim. I'll see you after school." And the line goes dead. He sighs and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Disheartened, he trudges into the classroom and takes his seat beside Madge. She is already scribbling notes from the board when he coughs and she glances up at him.

"Everything okay?" she asks, concerned etched on her pretty features. "You don't look so good. Was it that phone call?"

"What? Oh, no, that was just Katniss. She's, ah, not coming to school today and I need to bring her her homework," he supplies, copying down the notes Madge started on.

"You guys are really close, huh?"

"She's my best friend," he replies simply. He takes a deep breath. "So about the prom. I'd love to go with you." He hopes the words sounds more sincere out loud than they do ricocheting around in his mind. Her lips tic and then her mouth breaks into a beaming smile and her eyes sparkle and she almost squeals.

"Oh, Peeta, that's great. We'll have so much fun, I promise! And my parents said we can use their shore house for the weekend and have a whole bunch of people go with us and I figure we can ask Finnick and Annie and you can even ask Katniss and her date—"

"Katniss isn't going," he interjects, and Madge looks surprised.

"Oh. Did no one ask her? I'm sure I can…"

"No, that's not it. She doesn't want to go."

"Oh," Madge replies thoughtfully, her blond brows knitting in confusion. "Oh, well, I guess some people just don't like dances."

He doesn't hear anything else she says until the bell rings and class begins; he's too lost in thought, wondering how his best friend will react when he tells her he won't be spending Prom Night with her.

* * *

Peeta's stomach lurches as he enters the cafeteria Wednesday morning and his eyes land on the long table set up in the front of the room. A vibrant blue banner proclaims 'Prom Tickets On Sale Here' and a few of his classmates, Delly among them, are seated beneath it, chattering animatedly as a line begins to form.

He feels sick as his fingers close over the check that his mother eagerly pressed into his palm that morning, going on and on about what a _lovely _girl Margaret Undersee is and what a _lovely_ couple they'd make before he finally escaped and pealed out of the driveway, practically speeding to school.

Scanning the bustling, noisy cafeteria anxiously, he's assuaged when there is no sign of Katniss. She has gym right before lunch, and some days it takes her a little longer to get to the cafeteria, having to shower and change if she's gotten sweaty. The odds are in his favor today—all P.E. classes are running the mile and it's unseasonably hot, nearly 90 degrees. Katniss definitely would need a shower after that, and his mouth goes dry at the thought of her standing naked beneath the steaming spray, rivulets of water running down her breasts, dripping off her nipples…fuck. He's going to hell.

Knowing he has to act fast, he strides to the table and meets Delly's bright smile. "Hey, Peeta!" she enthuses. "Two tickets, right?"

He nods. "Uh, yeah." Placing the check on the table in front of Delly, he slides it towards her, his eyes shifting to the double doors of the cafeteria. She picks it up and copies the number onto an invoice, which she stashes back in the black cash box with the check. She grins as she hands him the two embossed tickets.

"Madge is so excited," she adds. "We are going to have such a blast at her beach house."

Peeta forces a smile at the bubbly blonde, nodding absently again. Still no sign of Katniss. He's not thrilled with the idea of heading to the Undersees' place in Lavalette, but Madge and Annie have gotten friendly since both made the varsity swim team, and if Annie goes to the shore, it means Finn will too, and he'll insist on Peeta coming too. He doesn't get to see Finn nearly as much as he used to, and he hopes now that Finn's classes have ended for the summer and he's home from Maryland, it will be more like old times. "Yeah, it will be fun."

She continues to chatter on, but Peeta has stopped listening. His throat constricts as his eyes meet Katniss's as she appears in the doorway. Her eyes flit up to the banner above his head and confusion fills the grey orbs. She blinks a few times and then looks away, fiddling with the end of her braid as she lowers her head and walks purposefully towards a table in the rear of the cafeteria.

He feels nauseous staring down at the tickets in his hand. "Thanks, Delly. I gotta go." He maneuvers between the guys who hover in line behind him and makes a beeline for Katniss, bracing himself for her reaction when he tells her. He should have told her last night when they were alone, but he chickened out given how tired Katniss had looked. She had taken her sister to the doctor on Monday afternoon, and Prim had been diagnosed with the flu so Katniss had stayed home with her Tuesday too. Mrs. Everdeen hadn't come home after her shift at the hospital—even with a sick daughter.

"Hey," he says softly, sliding onto the bench across from her. She looks up from her sandwich and gives him a small smile.

"Hi," she returns, nodding at the empty space in front of him. "Where's your lunch?" she asks.

"Oh, I'm supposed to buy something today. Forgot my lunch." And it's true—he had been so distracted by the conversation with his mother when she handed him the check for the prom tickets that he completely forgot to grab his lunch from the fridge.

She shoves half of her sandwich across the table toward him. "I can share. You made this, after all." It's one of the balsamic chicken Paninis he had whipped up at her house last night. She had been preparing a bowl of Cheerios and rye toast when Peeta had arrived with her second day's worth of homework.

He smiles back at her and shakes his head, apprehension coiled tight in his gut. She definitely saw him talking to Delly, and his head swims with the best way to break the news to her. When she shoves the sandwich at him, he holds up a hand. "I can't take your lunch. I can go buy a slice of pizza or something."

She wrinkles her nose. "Ew, Peeta, that's disgusting. Don't you always tell me not to eat that crap? Here. I insist." She leans across the table and playfully holds the sandwich up to his mouth, encouraging him to take a bite. Her grey eyes sparkle and a satisfied smirk tugs at her lips when his teeth sink into the sandwich.

"How was the mile? You smoke everyone as usual?" he asks once he's finished chewing the mouthful of Panini. She shakes her head and takes a long sip of her iced tea.

"Nah, they didn't make us run it. Too hot. We watched a stupid video in the gym. It must have been from the 1970s." She pauses and coughs quietly. "So you were talking to Delly. Were you buying prom tickets?"

His stomach flips again. Shit, this is it. "Ah, yeah," he replies sheepishly, taking another bite of the sandwich. It's like a Band-Aid, he thinks. Rip it off quickly and it's less painful than if it's peeled back slowly.

She looks thoughtful but before she can say anything, a cheery voice declares, "Hi, Peeta! Hi, Katniss." He lifts his eyes and sees Madge, her blue eyes shining, a huge smile stretching across her face. Oh fuck. _No. No, no, no_.

"Hey, Madge," he replies, his stomach resuming its somersaults. Katniss keeps her eyes on him, but he can't read her expression. She gives Madge a small 'hey' in greeting.

"Delly just told me you got our tickets. Thank you! I'm really, really excited!" she exclaims, perching on the edge of the bench next to him.

He sucks in a breath and keeps a tight smile on his face, but he cuts his eyes to Katniss again. She sits quietly, staring down at her half-eaten lunch, suddenly unwilling to look at him. "Uh, yeah. It will be fun." He knows how flat his voice sounds, but Madge doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm going to go dress shopping with Annie this Saturday," she adds with a smile, and he sees Katniss stiffen visibly, her eyes still cast downward, intently focused on her Panini.

"I bet you'll find something really beautiful," Katniss interjects and gives Madge a curt smile as Peeta watches her crumple up her brown bag as she carefully extracts herself from behind the bench. His mouth feels like its filled with cotton. The hurt is now etched all over Katniss's face.

"Thanks, Katniss! I'm thinking something blue. It will match Peeta's eyes."

"I'm sure it will. I'll see you guys later." And she stalks off, braid swishing, her pace quick. His gut tightens and his stomach swoops again.

"I'll be right back, Madge," he calls, sliding out from the table and rushing across the cafeteria. He catches up with Katniss just as she reaches the door of the closest ladies' room. "Katniss, wait!"

She turns and glares at him. "What?" she snaps. "A girl can't go to the bathroom? Leave me alone, Peeta."

He's seen the fire flashing in her mercury eyes before, but it's never been directed at him like this. It sends a fresh wave of nausea cresting and a sharp pain stabs at his heart. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I was going to tell you."

"Tell me what?" she retorts, folding her arms defensively across her chest. His gaze drops just above the neckline of her shirt where the locket he gave her for her sixteenth birthday last year glints in the sunlight streaming through the large windows lining the corridor.

"About Prom," he finishes, a gush of emotions suddenly threatening to flood out of him all at once.

"I don't care about Prom, Peeta," she spits. "I've told you that a thousand times. Now would you please leave me alone? I really need to use the bathroom. That time of the month," she adds, her words deliberate because it never fails to make him queasy when she discusses her period.

"You said that was last week," he corrects her quietly, and she reddens at being caught in the lie. He reaches out and gently pries her arms apart, taking one of her hands in his. He doesn't even care if people see them, knowing that gossip spreads through high school halls faster than a brush fire. "I wanted to take you," he says softly. "But you kept saying how much you didn't want to go, and I'd never make you do anything you don't want to do, Katniss. Madge asked me. I couldn't say no. I couldn't be rude and hurt her feelings."

He thinks he sees her lower lip tremble imperceptibly, but she tugs back her hand roughly and backs away from him. "I have to go." She whirls around, braid snapping, and pushes through the girls' room door.

He lingers outside the bathroom for nearly five minutes, but she still doesn't reappear. He sighs and though he wants to stick his head inside and coax her out, he's glad he doesn't when three senior girls look him up and down before entering the bathroom just as Katniss slips out through the door as it swings shut.

"Katniss, wait!" he calls. She jumps.

"Fuck, Peeta! What? Did you wait outside for me this whole time?" He nods and she rolls her eyes. "Geez, I told you I was fine. I don't care if you go to the prom with Madge. You'll have a great time."

She actually sounds sincere, and he looks at her suspiciously, searching those familiar grey eyes for any hint of emotion, but they are unreadable as she stares at him. "You sure you're not mad?"

She snorts. "I'm not mad. I know you really want to go. I'll do my anti-prom thing alone. Maybe Prim will watch _Carrie_ with me."

"Prim still gets upset when Mufasa dies," he says with a soft laugh. "You really think she's gonna handle pig's blood okay?"

"Kid's gotta toughen up eventually," Katniss replies. "Especially if she thinks she's gonna be a surgeon someday."

"You're really not upset?" he asks again. Her mouth twitches, but she nods.

"We're fine, Peeta. I promise. But do me a favor. I don't want to hear about this stupid dance for the next few weeks. Got it?"

He grins at her, relief flooding his entire body. "Got it."

* * *

It's easier than he thinks to keep their conversation from veering into prom territory over the next few days, but when it's time to rent his tuxedo, he agonizes over whether or not to ask her to go with him to do so. Katniss cuts through bullshit like no one's business, and he knows she will be decidedly blunt with her opinions. He kind of wants that—but at the same time, he worries that she'll just be annoyed that he has brought up the dance. Things have been completely normal between them; he doesn't really want to disturb the peace.

They're doing homework on the floor of her bedroom one night, both leaning against her bed, and Katniss is chewing on the bright pink eraser of her pencil like she always does. He takes a deep breath and readies himself to ask her. "Hey Kat?"

"Hmmm?" Her eyes remain fixed on the history textbook in front of her.

He sets down his own textbook and scratches at his jaw. "I need to go get a tux for the prom."

Her head snaps up and her mercury eyes are molten. "What did I say—" He holds up his hands in surrender.

"I know. But I'd really love your opinion on what looks good."

"You'd look good in a burlap sack, Peeta," she replies, and the compliment is spoken so matter-of-factly he has to wonder if he's heard her accurately. "All tuxedos look the same."

"Please, Katniss?" He raises his eyes and gives her a suppliant smile and pouts slightly, and she rolls her eyes and takes the pencil out from between her teeth.

"Why don't you go with Finnick? Doesn't he need to rent one? Or Cato. That guy never keeps his opinions to himself."

As she rattles off suggestions, his shoulders slump and he grabs his history book again, turning his attention back to reading about the War of 1812. "It's fine, Katniss. I just thought I'd ask."

She purses her lips as if she's going to say something, but she sighs and renews her vigorous chewing on the pencil and they finish their homework in silence.

Katniss persuades him to stay and watch _Storage Wars_ with her—even though he's listened to her vociferous complaints about reality television more times than he can count—and Peeta sprawls out on her bed when she goes to check that Prim has finished her own homework and has gotten herself ready for bed. He always marvels at the absolute devotion Katniss shows to her little sister (though he thinks lately Prim has been a bit moody and unappreciative of her big sister's efforts).

"What did I miss?"

He glances up and she smiles down at him wryly, flopping beside him on the bed. She bumps him with her shoulder and he looks back at the little television on her dresser and realizes he hasn't seen a minute of the stupid show. "Ah…I don't know. Rewind it."

"You know I don't have DVR on this crappy TV. What were you thinking about? Still Prom?" He hears the exasperation in her voice, and he exhales loudly enough that she laughs disdainfully. "You know you have this unrealistic expectation of what this lame dance is going to be, right? Watching old John Hughes movies has really fucked with your sense of reality."

"And you could be a little less cynical about things," he spits. "Dances are _fun_, Katniss. They're fun to most normal teenagers!" He regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, and when he sees the shocked expression on her face, his stomach drops like an anchor. Her eyes glint steel and she squares her shoulders defensively.

"I think you should go home now," she says coolly, vaulting off her bed and clicking off the television. She keeps her back to him. "I'm tired."

"Fuck, Katniss, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it to come out like that."

"I'm tired. I want to go to bed. So just go home, Peeta," she orders, never turning around. He swallows, the lump in his throat making it tougher to do so, feeling like there's a concrete block wedged in his windpipe. He mutely gathers his books and shoves them in his backpack. Lingering in the doorway for a moment, he scrutinizes her, back still to him, the tips of her fingers just visible near the top of her arms. With another sigh, he lumbers down the narrow hall.

"Bye, Peeta," Prim calls from her darkened closet of a bedroom.

"Night, Prim," he returns.

When he reaches his car, he leans against it and stares up at Katniss's window above the garage. She has yet to lower the blinds, and he clings to a modicum of hope that she'll appear at the window and he can call up to her and plead his case.

His stomach twists that he hurt her with his unintentionally callous words. Of course he didn't mean to imply that she _wasn't _normal; his own hurt and frustration with her attitude towards Prom has just finally hit a breaking point. He doesn't understand why she is so opposed to what most kids look forward to for years.

He grabs his phone from his pocket and taps out a quick text.

_Peeta: Im sorry. I didnt mean to hurt your feelings. I never want to hurt you._

His finger hovers over the 'send' button before he pushes it and waits, eyes riveted to her window. His phone remains noiseless. Moments later, she stands in the open window, clad in what he thinks might be one of his Panem High football t-shirts. Their eyes meet briefly, and she yanks the cord on the blinds roughly, disappearing behind them. He sees her silhouette move away and then the room goes dark.

Defeated, he climbs into his car and drives home.

_To be continued…_

* * *

_A/N-Part 2 is just about done too...so I hope it won't be too long a wait to get it edited and posted. Maybe early next week? _

_Many thanks to RynMar and misshoneywell for their support and encouragement when I hit a brick wall of frustration with this the other night, and again, RynMar and streetlightlove...your advice in pre-reading is invaluable as I wade through these choppy waters. _

_A few shameless plugs...if you're not reading BaronessMeggie's Flesh and Bone, SimplyAbbey's Seize Me, and streetlightlove's A Healing Heart, check them out. Thank you for reading, and thank you for the continued reviews, follows and favorites. _


	4. Chapter 3, Part II-Look Down and See

**A/N: **As you can see by the word count, splitting this beast into two was a necessity. I tried to edit Part II as quickly as I could around the work I betaed last week. Hope it wasn't too long a wait!

Rest of author's note to follow...

_THG_ belongs to Suzanne Collins and as always, chapter rated M for sexual content and language.

* * *

_Look Down and See Your Face on My Phone, Part II_

_~Now~ _

_(26 years old)_

* * *

Peeta is the first to rouse the next morning—though it's closer to afternoon by the time he does—and as he steps over bottles and discarded clothes to draw back the blinds, the suite floods with stark sunshine and muffled groans and loud curses ring out.

"Dammit, it's fucking bright," Marvel grumbles, throwing an arm over his eyes and burrowing further under the covers of the bed he had claimed.

"Holy shit it's quarter to twelve," Thresh announces when he sits up fully in the plush armchair he slouched into just after four in the morning. With just the six of them beginning the weekend, they had each had their own bed (well, Thresh had the chair and Cato used the couch) but more guys are expected to join them today—among them, several of Finnick's fraternity brothers from Maryland and a few guys who work with him at clinic where Finn works as a physical therapist. Rye also plans to show up; he and Finnick were never close in high school though they were in the same grade, but since Thom wound up in Rye's fraternity at Georgia, his brother sort of infiltrated Peeta's crowd on holidays and in the summers, and he's been friendly with all of them ever since. Finnick's brother, Dylan, will be the only groomsman missing—the kid is as straight-laced as Finnick was wild when he was Dylan's age, and at eighteen, he didn't want to risk a fake ID. He had even declined best man duties, and thus, the honor was bestowed on Peeta.

Peeta rolls his eyes when he sees the thick black Sharpie mustache drawn above Thresh's upper lip. He had been the first to pass out, and obviously at some point, one of the guys—almost certainly Cato—had taken it upon himself to use Thresh's face as a doodling pad. It had been his calling card back in high school.

"Morning lads," Finnick declares, swaggering in from the second bedroom. "Who's ready for the beach?"

"It's bright at the beach," Marvel protests. "And my fucking head is pounding."

Peeta's own head feels as if a high school marching band has taken up residence inside it, but this is Finn's weekend, and his friend wants them to spend a few hours ocean-side getting some sun. He rummages through his duffel bag and grabs his swim trunks and a bottle of Advil, popping two and swallowing them with a grimace. He tosses the bottle to Marvel, and it makes its rounds until it reaches Peeta once more and he replaces it in his bag.

After about twenty minutes, they've all managed to change and get most of the Sharpie off Thresh's face—Cato denies everything with a grin that betrays his protests. Thom crams three cases of Yuengling into an oversized Igloo that he brings when he tailgates at Eagles games, and they're just about to exit the suite when Peeta's phone jumps. He glances at the screen to see a message from Katniss and realizes he has two unread texts from her. Before he can read either, Finnick lunges forward and snatches the iPhone from Peeta's hand.

"No way. No fucking phones for the afternoon. They all stay here," Finn declares firmly. "All of the guys who are coming later today know the suite number and the dinner reservation is at seven, so no one needs to reach us." He motions to his own iPhone resting on the bar beside the mini fridge and sweeps his aquamarine eyes around the room, waiting for them to set their phone down beside it.

"Maybe it's Peeta's fuck toy looking for some 'afternoon delight," Brutus smirks and hums a few bars of the old song.

"It's just Katniss," Peeta replies, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.

"Then I'm sure it's nothing important. She knows what's going on down here," Finnick asserts, changing a pointed look with Peeta. He sighs and nods, agreeing to answer her when they get back. They all leave their phones behind and Finn closes the door, tucking the room key inside a plastic bag and tossing it inside the cooler.

Peeta feels nauseous, and it's not from his hangover. As they make their way down to the beach, he recalls the bad sex with the waitress last night. No matter how many times he fucks someone else, a tiny part of him _always_ feels like he's betraying Katniss. And now not returning her message…it only causes his guilt to multiply.

While Katniss has never come right out and told him to fuck anyone he wants, she has always seemed at ease with him seeing other people. She's even talked to him about the girls he's dated. Hell, he could probably tell her about Cashmere or whatever her name was and Katniss would probably just shrug and straddle him and teasingly show him why she's the one who fucks him best. It's what she did the last time he ended a relationship—which was nearly a year ago and also happens to be the last time he slept with someone who wasn't Katniss. The last time until the previous evening, that is.

"I don't know how you do it, Peet," Cato laughs as they choose a spot on the sand and throw down their towels. Thresh and Finnick immediately abandon the group to go rent a wave runner, and the rest of them sit down on their towels to stare out at the churning surf.

"Do what?" he asks, his eyes following a man in bright red swim trunks who sits at the water's edge shoveling sand into a large pail with a tow-headed toddler. The little girl shrieks excitedly each time her father overturns a new dome for the sandcastle they are constructing.

"Being friends with Katniss. How can a guy be friends with a chick for all these years and not want to bone her?" Thom and Marvel snicker and nod in agreement, but it's not lost on Peeta that Brutus remains relatively quiet.

"Boundaries, I guess." It's the only reply he can generate—even if it's a bald-faced lie.

"But you_ do _want to fuck her, right? At least, you totally did back in high school," Cato continues, pausing to issue a loud wolf-whistle at two girls who can't possibly be more than eighteen as they strut by in tiny bikinis. They giggle and keep walking.

"Peeta's too noble to ever think about crossing a line like that," Marvel reasons.

"That doesn't mean he hasn't thought about it," Cato shoots back. "Hell, I've thought about it."

_If they only knew. _"Why the fuck is my love life so fascinating to you guys?" Peeta grouses. He realizes his slip of the tongue too late, but fortunately, neither Cato nor Marvel seems to notice it. Brutus, however, quirks an eyebrow in his direction, but he avoids his stare. "Yeah, Katniss is hot. But she's my best friend."

"You've never heard of 'friends with benefits'?" Thom interjects suddenly, and Peeta's stomach sinks like a stone. _Shit._ But Thom clears his throat, cracks open a Yuengling and takes a long pull before he continues, "It's how Delly and I got together at first."

"No fucking way!" Marvel crows. "No shit!"

Thom's face breaks into a wide grin. "Yep," he laughs.

"When was this?" Peeta asks suspiciously.

"Oh, sophomore year of college. Over Christmas break. I had just broken up with Neveah, remember?" He turns to Marvel. "We hooked up for the first time in your mom's laundry room." He laughs again and Marvel exaggerates his shudder and makes a face. "Well, and then it happened a bunch more times over the next year and I guess by the following summer we just sort of wondered why we weren't giving actual dating a try. Never looked back. Best decision we ever made."

Marvel then starts talking about the time he tried the 'friends with benefit' arrangement with his R.A at Rutgers, but Peeta stops listening shortly afterwards. He weighs Thom's confession over and over again. Does Thom's situation give him any hope for him and Katniss? Not really; he's reasonably certain that Delly has never flat out told Thom that she would never get married and doesn't constantly blast the institution.

"Peet!" Finnick wades in from the water, waving his arm. "Your turn on the jet ski."

As Peeta jogs down the sand towards the water, he passes the father and daughter still diligently at work on their sandcastle. Up close, he sees that the guy can't be more than a few years older than him, and a pretty woman in a tankini that just barely covers her bulging belly hovers nearby, snapping photo after photo of the pair. She looks up and catches Peeta watching them and smiles kindly. He returns the smile halfheartedly and continues down to the water to mount the wave runner and try to clear his cluttered head for a little while.

* * *

When they arrive back at the suite to clean up for dinner and the strip club, Peeta goes for his phone to retrieve Katniss's messages.

_Katniss: are you behaving? ;) _

_Katniss: so i cant remember the name of that restaurant you took me to last year for my bday. a little help, please? _

He reads and rereads the second message, which was sent minutes after the first, both just before ten a.m. His eyes skim the words a third time, and his irritation flares when he focuses on the words 'can't remember.'

Of course _he _remembers. He had made the reservations months in advance for the excessively upscale steakhouse in Philadelphia—Katniss has never been shy about her love for red meat—and the meal had cost him more than his grocery bill for a month. It had been her 25th birthday. He had felt the need to make it special, and it had been worth it to watch the blissful expressions on her face as she chewed and savored the tender filet she had ordered. The same contented look had graced her features hours later when he ended their evening by making her body shatter in waves of pleasure underneath him.

He doesn't know why she could possibly want to know about that restaurant—other than possibility that she has a date that night and needs a nice place to go. At least it can't be with Brutus, he thinks bitterly. But his fists clench instinctively when he considers she doesn't recall the name of the place. Had that evening meant so little to her?

"Peet? You okay?" Thom asks, and Peeta glances down at the text message again, nodding vaguely.

"Ah, yeah. I'm fine."

Thom gestures to the phone. "What did Katniss want?"

"Oh, nothing. Just like Finnick said. She just wanted to know if we were behaving," he adds with a wry smile.

Thom chuckles. "She doesn't know us that well after all then." His gaze softens and he scratches at his chin. "You know, Peet, I'm actually kind of surprised that you and Katniss haven't just given it a go too after all these years. I think you guys would be really good together. Delly and I were just talking about it the other day."

Peeta shrugs and stares at the phone again, finally setting it down on the coffee table as he takes a seat opposite the flat screen television. "It wouldn't work," he replies simply—because he can't very well voice his agreement—and turns on ESPN while he waits for one of the showers to become free.

He loses count of the number of times he picks up his cell only to set it back down as he agonizes over whether to text her back or not. By the time he showers and gets ready, he remains undecided and he just wants her off his mind so he can enjoy his evening. He plans to refrain from any misbehavior of his own tonight—Cashmere was enough of a drunken indiscretion for the weekend, as much as it stroked his ego for a hot second.

But he's still thinking about Katniss after dinner when the festivities move to Scores, the high-end gentlemen's club in the Trump Taj Mahal; it's so bad that he swears he can see her face on every dancer who approaches them.

"Fuck, look at the tits on that one," Finnick marvels, his jaw dropping as an exotic-looking brunette with almond-shaped onyx eyes and a jeweled G-string moves to the pole directly in front of them. "Those things are real, right? Look at the way they bounce."

"They're real or they were really expensive to get them looking like they are," Thom jokes, taking a pull off his Stella and glancing up admiringly at the dancer.

"What do you think, Peet? You've probably seen more real tits than all of us cause we all know Cato doesn't date anyone without fake boobs." Marvel elbows him, sending a ribbon of his Crown lacing through the air. "Shit, I spilled my drink!" he slurs, punctuated with a loud guffaw. He raises his hand above his head and signals their waitress to bring him another glass of the Canadian whisky.

Peeta sighs and swirls his Jack and Coke, studying the dancer straddling the pole. "They look real," he affirms. He sips his drink and sets it down. His head is still thrumming, and no amount of aspirin has eased the excruciating ache that has lingered all day. The profound throbbing has nothing to do with alcohol this time, though he's had a few like everyone else.

"Peet? Get with it, we're going to a private room now," Thresh calls, waving his hand in front of Peeta's face. He shakes from his reverie and gives his friend a sheepish grin and grabs his whiskey.

"Sorry, got a little lost in thought."

"Fuck, get this guy a lap dance," Cato chuckles. "Lap dances for all of us!" He waves a wad of dollar bills in the air and hoots.

The private room is opulent and lit in soft tones of aqua and purple and the music that pulses from the speakers is seductive and erotic. Thresh and Rye drag one of the chairs to the center of the room and both settle onto a leather couch near the door as Marvel pushes Finnick into the seat of honor. Peeta lingers near the door, still nursing his Jack and Coke as the other guys choose seats around the room.

"Holy shit, you sick fucks," Finnick gasps when the door opens several minutes later and two striking red-headed girls enter the lounge, perfect mirror images of Ariel from _The Little Mermaid, _right down to the skimpy purple seashell bras and shimmery green short-shorts. Peeta raises an eyebrow and then his glass at Finn and he smirks, knowing that Finnick has always had a bizarre fetish for the cartoon character. He had chosen the girls over the phone with the club owner after detailing the fantasy, and he knew Finnick wouldn't be disappointed. His friend's face breaks into a dopey grin as the two girls approach Finn's chair and begin grinding on each other in front of him. "This is awesome! Best 'best man' ever!"

"Well done, Peet, well done," Cato laughs, and the room fills with catcalls and hollers as Finnick's face reddens and he luxuriates in the attention the girls lavish on him. "Remind me when I get married to put you in charge too."

Peeta manages a smile and takes the last swallow of his drink. At this rate, he very well may be the last bachelor standing among his friends. And he's not okay with that. His stomach rolls as he considers the sad reality that his dream of marrying Katniss and starting a family with her continues to slip farther out of reach. Something has to change in his life—and soon.

The girls in front of Finnick start kissing, and the slow, sensual movements of their lips and their hands tangling in each other's hair causes Peeta to get hard, his mind finally able to travel elsewhere for a bit, and he's sure he's not the only one in the room who does. Finn's attention is riveted to the girls, and the dopey grin has melted into an expression of sheer euphoria. The slightly taller of the two girls tugs at the string of the other's top and the purple shells fall away, revealing a perfectly round pair of breasts. The shorter girl then reciprocates, leaving both women topless. The hoots and whistles resonate throughout the room.

Peeta moves to finally claim a seat as just his phone vibrates in his pocket. He sighs, suspecting it's once again Katniss since almost all of his friends are here with him and his parents almost never text him.

It's indeed Katniss, but she's actually _calling_ him. Shouldn't she be on her date by now? He exhales loudly and curses himself when he exits the room and finds a quiet corridor near the restrooms where he can at least hear her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." He can hear the smile in her voice. "You didn't answer my texts. Is everything okay?"

He draws in another deep breath and the air whistles through his clenched teeth. "I'm at a bachelor party, Katniss. We're having fun. Everything's okay, I'm fine, and we can talk tomorrow." His nerves sizzle as he ends the call without waiting for her to get in another word.

He kind of expects his phone to go off immediately with either an angry call back or an indignant text demanding to know why he hung up on her because he never hangs up on her so he makes the hasty decision to shut it off for the rest of the night so he won't be tempted to peek when it vibrates again. Then he returns to the private room and sees the girls have finally separated, and one gyrates over Finnick's lap and the other practically has her breasts in his brother's face, and knowing Rye, he's seconds away from crossing the line and trying to motorboat the poor girl. He grabs a shot from the table near the door and downs it, feeling the sharp sting of the Patrón hit the back of his throat before it licks a soothing fire on its way down. He chases the first tequila with second shot of it and returns to his seat.

The door opens and two more topless dancers saunter into the room. One is a lithe blonde with surprisingly small breasts but phenomenally taut abs and a killer ass. She scans the room and strides over to where Thom sits, and Peeta bites back a laugh as his friend's eyes widen comically and Thom downs the rest of his beer to free up both his hands. God they're gonna have fun with Thom when it's his turn as the groom-to-be next year.

It's then that Peeta feels the eyes of the second new girl on him, and when he meets her gaze, his gut tightens. This time he's not just seeing things—the long raven hair and the almost grey eyes definitely resemble Katniss's, and the dancer seems to hone in on him instinctively. As she approaches him with a suggestive smile, he gets a better look at her. Her lips are far too red, her breasts are definitely fakes, and her eyes lack the spark he always seems to be able to ignite in Katniss's. His pants tighten nonetheless, though.

"Shit, she looks just like Katniss," Marvel hisses, jostling Peeta's elbow as the dancer pivots and swivels her hips in front of both men. "Much bigger tits, but fuck, man, don't you see it? Tell me you see it!"

Okay, so it's _not_ just him. It's almost a relief to hear someone else mention the resemblance and it's not just him fixating on her—even if he _is _fixating on her. "Uh, yeah, I guess."

"I bet Katniss has never danced for Peeta like that," Brutus declares with a chuckle, accepting his drink from the cocktail waitress who has slipped into the room to make her rounds.

For some reason, the fact that _Brutus_ is the one who makes that comment rankles Peeta. He has the sudden impulse to confess everything to his friends—to declare that actually, not only has Katniss indeed indulged him in a few stripteases over the years, but given the numerous positions they've experimented with and the many ways he's contorted her body while thrusting into her, she's probably way more flexible than any of these strippers. And he'd be sure to look right at Brutus when he said it. He might even be tempted to let it slip how loud Katniss likes to scream _his_ name when he makes her come.

Instead, he responds curtly, "Katniss doesn't dance."

"I bet I could get her to dance," Brutus smirks, the alcohol clearly fueling his braggadocio. Peeta furls and unfurls his fists and he silently counts to ten in his head to keep his cool. Marvel tucks a bill into the Katniss look-alike's thong as she moves on to Finnick's work buddies. He tugs on Peeta's shirt and motions for him to come closer.

"You should totally go bang that dancer somewhere," he hisses. "It's the closest you'll get to fucking Katniss."

"No, thanks," he replies wryly. Cause he's had the real thing; he doesn't need any cheap imitation.

They shut down the club, hanging in the private room until close, and as they all stagger back to the suite, Peeta inconspicuously powers up his phone, fully anticipating to be greeted with a flurry of missed calls and text messages from her. But all he sees is her smiling face on his screensaver—his favorite picture of the two of them from his college graduation. No more calls, not a single text.

He slams down his phone, strips down to his underwear and slides into one of the queen beds beside Rye, who is already passed out and snoring loudly, and he waits for his own inebriated state to pull him under and relieve his tormented conscience.

* * *

_~Then~_

_Junior Prom cont._

_(17 years old)_

* * *

He has trouble sleeping when he climbs into bed after arriving home from Katniss's; he lies awake for a while. He and Katniss almost never fight, and she _always_ answers his texts. It's been over three hours since he left her house—not a word from her. His phone showed that it was 12:02 the last time he peeked at it.

Finally his eyes slip closed and a restless slumber pulls him under but it can't be more than a few minutes before his phone lights up a second before "Barracuda" blares through the silence. He starts and fumbles for the device, his voice rough with sleep. "Katniss?"

"Open your damn window," she hisses. "It's locked."

Stunned, he ends the call and hops off his bed, padding to the window. He raises it and Katniss hoists herself inside. She throws her arms around his neck and crushes herself against him. He staggers back a little before steadying them both and allowing his hands to find purchase on her hips. It's definitely his cropped football tee that she wears and grey sweats sit low on her waist. His thumbs graze the bare skin of her hipbones.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, her breath tickling his neck.

"I didn't mean it, Katniss," he whispers. She draws back and gazes at him. "_I'm_ sorry."

She emits a long quivering breath. "My parents went to their prom together. They were high-school sweethearts. My mother stared at that picture for days after he left. Not their wedding portrait, Peeta, their prom photo. She was like a zombie until I finally stole it one day and burned the fucking thing."

The pain in her voice is palpable and cuts to his heart like a knife. How did he never stop to consider her vitriolic feelings towards the dance stemmed from something far deeper than her just being anti-social and stubborn? Dammit, he is such an asshole.

"Oh, Katniss," he sighs, tucking her tighter against him, his hands moving up her back to splay across her spine, drawing soothing circles as her body releases another prolonged shudder—though she is not crying. "I'm sorry. I never even thought—"

"I didn't want to tell you." She glances up at him, and he sees the unshed tears welling in her eyes "But the last couple of weeks it's all I can think about—how we weren't enough for him, or that we were too much for him, or whatever the fuck he could have been thinking when he walked out on us. How can you love someone for so long and then just…" She wiggles free from his embrace and buries her face in her hands.

"Katniss," he says gently, "I am so, so sorry. I won't mention Prom again. I swear."

A bitter laugh bubbles from her throat, escaping in a garbled croak. "That's just it, Peeta! You shouldn't _have_ to keep quiet. You're excited to go; I get it. But I should be able to be happier for you and I should be a lot stronger than this…than letting myself turn into a blubbering mess over something so stupid. He's been gone for so long now. My mom has moved on like a hundred times over." She scans his room for the box of tissues he keeps, and he cringes when he realizes they're on the floor beside his bed—right where he left them when he jerked off the other night. He says a silent prayer that he remembered to jam the tube of lube back in the nightstand drawer. Grabbing a few Kleenex, she blows her nose and sniffles.

"It's not stupid. I wish I had known—I wish you had told me sooner. Cause now I feel like shit that I didn't know…" He sighs, heartsick that he could have missed any of the signs.

She twists the bottom of her t-shirt—his t-shirt—in her fingers. "Stop, Peeta. How could you possibly know your best friend is even less normal and even more fucked up than you thought?"

He rubs at his jaw absently, his guilt rising again. "You are normal," he insists. "Shit, I never meant for you to take it that way, Katniss. I swear."

"Can I stay here?" she whispers, her eyes wide and beseeching.

"What?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

The request paralyzes him. His cock jerks when his mind immediately jumps to thoughts of _sleeping_ with her—he has fantasized about having sex with Katniss since he first learned what having sex even was—but her doe-like eyes affirm that her suggestion is a completely innocent one. "Uh, what about your mom?"

"She got home right before I snuck out. She'll never know I'm gone and she's never up when I leave for school. I won't even stay long, Peeta, I swear. I just need to get a little sleep and you're always the one who makes me feel better. You always take care of me."

"Have you not been sleeping?" he asks, concerned by her words.

"I've had a lot of nightmares lately," she confesses. "Mostly about my dad. But tonight when I tried to go to sleep, I dreamt about _you_ leaving me, Peeta. Us not being friends anymore. I hate fighting with you. Because it would literally kill me if I didn't have you in my life."

"Oh, Katniss," he begins. She steps towards him and reaches for his hands.

"Please? We can set the alarm and I'll go back home to get ready for school and get Prim on the bus and no one will know I was here. I just want you to hold me tonight, please?"

He closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them again, any doubts he had evaporate and he nods mutely and leads her to his bed. This is so not how he imagined having Katniss _in_ his bed for the first time. He settles beneath the sheets first, and when she climbs in beside him and nestles against him, winding her arms around his waist, he struggles to keep from getting hard at the feel of her pressed up against the length of his body.

His fingers tangle through her loose hair, lightly massaging her scalp, and she places her left hand on his bare chest directly over where his heart is thrumming frantically. If she notices, she doesn't say a word; she releases a contented sigh and her eyes flutter shut.

"Thank you," she whispers. He's hyper aware of each breath leaving his body. What would she do if he kissed her right now? Both times they've made out it's been an intensely pleasurable experience—and he is reasonably confident she enjoyed it too.

But she succumbs to sleep swiftly and he remains awake, thinking about the dead deer he saw on the side of the road that morning to keep his mind from wandering and dwelling on the feel of Katniss's warm body cocooned against his. Luckily for him, it doesn't take long for the tendrils of slumber to tug him under.

When he rouses some time later, he's horrified to find the shorts he sleeps in are soaked and he's a sweaty, sticky mess. _Fuck._ Really? He feels Katniss's arm draped over his stomach, her thumb resting on his navel, just inches above the evidence of his wet dream, but a panicked glance at her reveals she lies prone beside him, and if he's careful, he can extract himself and go clean up. He gingerly lifts her arm and slithers off the foot of bed; Katniss stirs and sighs, rolling onto her side, and he holds his breath, but her eyes remain closed, a peaceful smile gracing her slack lips.

He finally exhales when he reaches the small bathroom that connects his room to Rye's and steps out of his ruined shorts and boxers, throwing them into the hamper beside the bathtub. He curses again when he realizes he didn't think to grab a spare pair of shorts from his dresser and will have to go back into his room stark naked.

After cleaning himself off as stealthily as he can manage, he treads quietly across his carpet, grimacing when his top dresser drawer issues a loud creak. He grabs a fresh pair of boxer-briefs and hastily tugs them up then begins rummaging for more sweats. The first thing his hand lands on his a pair of football sweats—not shorts—but he pulls them on and prays Katniss won't notice he's in different clothes than he went to bed in.

It's a harder task to climb back over her to get back to his spot against the wall, and as he does, he accidentally pins her hair to the pillow under his palm and her eyes fly open with a sharp squeak of pain. "Sorry!" he hisses. She stares back, her eyes glazed with sleep. "I, uh, had to use the bathroom," he lies.

"What time is it?"

"Um…five," he replies, leaning over her to peer at the clock. She frowns and sits up, combing her fingers through her tangled dark hair and gives him a contrite smile.

"I should go home now, I guess."

"My dad's already left for the bakery if it's five," he answers. "I can probably sneak you downstairs."

She shakes her head. "I'll go through the window. I don't want to risk you incurring your mom's wrath." Rising from the bed, she stretches languidly, and the t-shirt rides up on her torso, revealing the flat, toned planes of her stomach to him.

"Do you always sleep in my t-shirt?" he asks. She grins and slips on her flip-flops.

"Maybe," she responds coyly. "I like the way it still smells like you, even though I've washed it like a hundred times."

"I've been looking for that shirt."

"I know. But I knew where it was all along." She smirks.

"It looks better on you than it does on me." God, is he flirting with her?

"I doubt that, but thanks." She begins moving towards the window and reaches out to raise it, but he rushes over to lift it for her and offer her his hand for support. "You're always there for me, Peeta. You're the best thing in my life, you know that?" Without warning, he feels the warmth of her lips on his, but it's a brief kiss and she's out the window and sprinting across his lawn as the first fingers of dawn claw at the horizon.

* * *

The Friday morning of the prom brings an excited buzz to the halls of Panem High, and Peeta isn't surprised when Katniss approaches his locker with a determined scowl on her face.

"I should have stayed home today," she grumbles, glaring up and down the hallway at the clusters of teenagers giggling and grinning and counting down the minutes until eleven, when most of the junior class will leave early. Peeta knows from a long chat with Madge last night that she has back-to-back appointments for her nails and hair at the swank salon that his mother and Mrs. Undersee both frequent. He is due at the Undersees' house at five o'clock for photos. His only task for the afternoon is picking up the corsage he ordered for Madge—he's not even sure he'll cut out early. Katniss will be one of the few students who remain in class, and he doesn't want her eating lunch alone.

"You should do something fun for yourself today," he suggests, slamming his locker and falling into step beside her as they make their way towards Mr. Beetee's classroom.

"I'm going to take Prim miniature golfing," she replies, and he flinches when he feels her fingertips inadvertently graze his as she inches closer to him to avoid bumping into a gaggle of girls who aren't watching where they're going.

"That's nice of you. But you never think about yourself."

She shrugs and leans against the door when they arrive at Peeta's bio class. "Have fun tonight. I probably won't see you later."

"I'll see you at lunch," he insists. Madge waves at him from her stool inside the classroom, and he nods at her in acknowledgement. He sees Katniss cut her eyes towards the blonde, and the grey irises flicker subtly.

"You'll wind up leaving like the rest of them." The look she gives him holds him in place. "Have fun, Peeta," she repeats as she walks away. He watches her retreating form get swallowed up by the hoards of students racing through the halls as the bell rings. He sighs and heads into the room to listen to Madge chatter on excitedly about how much fun they're going to have and how perfect the weather is supposed to be all weekend and how she hopes she can get a good tan instead of burning like she usually does. He smiles and nods politely occasionally and is relieved when class ends.

He's in the middle of British Lit when Finnick shoots him a text and goads him and the rest of the guys into an impromptu flag football game in the park before they all clean up for the dance. He sends Katniss a text to apologize and tries to encourage her to leave like everyone else and come watch, but her quick reply declines the invitation with a short, 'no thanks.'

Dripping with sweat and feeling thoroughly exhausted after the intense pick up game, he turns on the A.C in his car full blast as he drives to the florist to get Madge's corsage—might as well do it now before he gets home and doesn't feel like driving back out.

The older woman who runs the flower shop greets him enthusiastically when he gives him her name and his order. As she's scrutinizing the scores of plastic containers in the large cooling display behind the counter, Peeta's attention is drawn to a striking bouquet of wildflowers in an ornate vase. The stems of Tiger lilies, sunflowers, lilacs and bright Gerbera daisies are simple but create a lovely spectrum of color, and he immediately thinks of Katniss.

"Here we are, Mr. Mellark," the lady croons, setting down the little box the houses the white orchid wrist corsage that he knows Madge coveted. "Will that be all?"

He stares at the wildflowers again and gestures to the vase. "I'll take the wildflowers over there."

She beams. "Wonderful choice. I just finished that arrangement not but twenty minutes ago."

He slides his credit card across the counter—the one his parents gave him for emergencies—and he figures he'll catch shit from his mother when she sees the exorbitant total and realize that there's no way Madge's corsage cost $72.00. But it will be worth it if he can put even a tiny smile on Katniss's face today.

After stashing Katniss's flowers in the large refrigerator in the garage and Madge's corsage in the one in the kitchen, he shaves and showers and styles his hair before changing into his rented tux. He's studying his reflection in the mirror when his father appears in the doorway.

"Hey, son," he begins warmly. "You look great."

"Thanks, Dad." He splashes on some cologne and adjusts his cuff links again. He catches his father watching him carefully. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just a little hard for me to believe you're already going to your prom. Your old man is…well, getting old."

Peeta laughs and puts his cologne back on the shelf and closes the medicine cabinet. "Stop, Dad. You're not old."

"Have a great time tonight, Peeta. You're only young once," he says, a wistful smile on his face. "You'll look back on tonight when you're my age and hopefully you have nothing but great memories."

Peeta forces a smile back as he thinks about Katniss and a sharp pang seizes his heart. "I hope so."

Once he retrieves Madge's corsage and Katniss's flowers, he slides into the front seat of his car and wedges the vase between his legs precariously then backs out of the driveway, heading for the Everdeens' house. It will just be a quick detour, he assures himself.

But when he pulls up in front of Katniss's house, her rusted Honda Accord is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Mrs. Everdeen's Ford Focus. Furrowing his brows, he exits the car, flowers in hand, and he walks up the front path, pausing on the small porch to ring the doorbell.

"Peeta!" Prim's bright smile greets him when she throws open the door. "Oh my gosh, you look _so_ handsome! What are you doing here? Are those for your prom date?" Her blue eyes dance and her winsome little face looks up at him.

"Ah, no, Prim, actually, these are for Katniss."

Prim's blond brows knit in confusion though her eyes widen as she takes in the beautiful flowers. "Katniss isn't here."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that since her car is gone." He pauses. "Did she go out to grab you guys some food?"

"No." Prim shakes her head emphatically, blond braids swinging. "She's at work. Mom's on a date. I'm actually waiting for Rue's dad to come get me. I'm sleeping over there tonight."

He furrows his brows. Work? Why would Katniss lie to him? "She's at work?" he repeats in disbelief. Prim nods. Katniss had in fact started working at the movie theater two weeks earlier. "She said she was taking you miniature golfing and you were going to watch movies together."

"Nope," Prim replies, "she's definitely at work."

He releases a long sigh. "Okay, then. Well, I guess I should just leave these here with you. I—ah—there's, um, there's no card or anything. I guess I'll send her a text later." He thrusts the arrangement into Prim's spindly arms and she disappears behind the showy blooms. "Have fun at your friend's house, Prim."

"Thanks, Peeta. I'll put these in Katniss's room. Have fun at the prom."

His mind whorls as he drives to the Undersees. He can't fathom why Katniss wouldn't tell him the truth, and he's actually really depressed at the idea that his best friend will be filling cups with Coke and drizzling fake butter over popcorn while everyone else her age is having the time of their young lives. It's somehow even worse than her just sitting at home. He's further disappointed in both Prim and Mrs. Everdeen for abandoning her—how can they go off and have fun when Katniss is alone?

She's is all he can think about as he greets a jubilant Madge—who does look lovely in her pale purple gown with her hair swept up in an intricate updo—and fastens the corsage around her delicate wrists and mingles with Finnick and Annie, and Cato, Marvel, Thresh and Thom and their dates. He thinks about her during what seems like an hour of all their mothers snapping pictures and ordering them to smile; he thinks about her when Cato doles out shots of Jägermeister that he smuggled from his father's liquor cabinet once they're all settled inside the ostentatious vehicle; and he thinks about her when the photographer tells Peeta to place his arms around Madge as they stand in front of the cheesy backdrop for their prom portrait.

She strays from his mind a little further when the girls all start dancing and he starts goofing around with Finnick and Thresh. Cato and Glimmer disappear about halfway through the night—Cato had bragged about the hotel room he rented even though Peeta knows the two have already had sex and they'll have a room at Madge's shore house come the early hours of the morning.

He dances the slow songs with Madge; she's only a little taller than Katniss, and by the third dance, she closes her eyes and rests her head on his shoulder, nestling against him a little closer. He lets his own eyes close and imagines it's Katniss in his arms, and he feels yet another twinge of sadness that she's toiling away at the movie theater while he's enjoying himself.

Just before the deejay announces the last song of the evening, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

_Katniss: i dont deserve you _

He smiles wryly. It's just before 11, and he knows the theater sends her home at 10:30 because she's not eighteen yet and they have labor laws to follow. Rye complained frequently last summer when he had to start staying to close the theater down—sometimes til two on a Friday and Saturday when a late show could start at midnight. She probably just arrived home and saw the flowers. He feels Madge's eyes on him as he texts Katniss back.

_Peeta: you deserve more than flowers but im glad you like them_

_Katniss: theyre beautiful. thanks. hope you had fun. be careful driving to the beach_

Madge appears at his side and gives him a sweet smile. "Last dance. C'mon." He lets her lead him out on the crowded floor again, but as he wraps his arms around her, he comes to a conclusion: he doesn't want to go to the beach. He doesn't want to go anywhere but to see Katniss. He did his prom thing, and now it's her turn to get her anti-prom, even if it means he gets no sleep watching whatever movies she wants until the sun rises.

He braces himself to break the news to Madge. "Hey, Madge?"

"Yeah?" She looks up at him from under a fringe of long lashes.

"I think I'm going to skip the beach thing," he says steadily, watching the shock and disappointment muddle in her eyes.

"What? Why?"

He tries to explain, as gently as possible, that he feels badly that Katniss is home by herself when everyone is heading to the shore—he doesn't want to lie to Madge; she's too nice, and when he finishes, she shakes her head.

"She can come! I would have invited her! I just figured since she didn't wasn't coming to the dance she wouldn't want to come to the shore. She can totally come, Peeta! Call her."

He hesitates. "I'm going to go to her house and see her. If I can convince her to, I'll drive down with her tomorrow morning, okay?"

"So you're not coming with us tonight at all? Are you sure?" Her voice is thick with sadness.

"I'm sure. You go with Finnick and Annie and everyone."

He doesn't even ride back to the Undersees with all his friends—he calls a cab and when the taxi idles in front of the hotel a few minutes later, he says goodbye to all of them, thanks Madge for a nice evening and gives her a soft kiss on the cheek. As he settles in the rear of the cab and the driver asks his destination, impulsively he gives him Katniss's street and house number rather than go home and waste time getting his own car. His stomach is a twisted knot of anticipation as the car approaches her house.

After paying the taxi driver and giving him a tip, he walks up the driveway, gravel crunching under his dress shoes and is dismayed to see not only Katniss's and Mrs. Everdeen's cars in the driveway but another unfamiliar one parked behind them. Katniss's mother is apparently home from her date—and not alone. He knows Mrs. Everdeen's last boyfriend—or her 'fuck of the week,' as Katniss crassly refers to the endless parade of men through her mom's bedroom—drove a pick-up truck. (Once she recovered from her depression over her husband leaving her, Katniss's mom went to the other extreme: serial dating.)

He sighs and creeps around the side of the house and pulls out his phone to tap her a quick message—it's just easier than throwing pebbles at her window, as clichéd and romantic as that might sound.

_Peeta: look outside_

_Katniss: what? why? _

_Peeta: just do it :)_

A few moments later, a dim light appears above his head in the room he knows is Katniss's and he sees a shadowy form approach the window. It lifts and Katniss sticks her head out.

"Peeta! Holy shit, what are you doing here?" she gasps.

"How do I get inside?" he asks. "I was hoping your mom wasn't home."

"She's leaving for work in a little bit. Why are you here? What happened to the shore?"

"I'll explain everything if you get me inside somehow."

She hesitates. "Back door," she whispers and vanishes from the window. He walks around to the rear of the house, nearly tripping over Prim's cat, Buttercup, who hisses at him and continues skulking through the darkened yard. Reaching the stoop, he hesitates but a moment later, the door creaks open. Katniss presses a finger firmly to her lips and motions to the staircase. "My mother is still in the living room. They're watching a movie. At least I hope that's all they're doing." She makes a face and glances down at his feet. "Take off your shoes," she commands, and he obediently slips them off. She nods and crooks a finger at him, and he follows her as quietly as he can manage.

He can hear the din of the television as Katniss darts up the stairs, and he holds his breath and takes the steps two at a time. She grins at him and closes her door noiselessly as she collapses against the back of it. Peeta takes a few draws of oxygen and his heart thumps when he notices she is staring at him. "What?" he murmurs.

"You look really nice," she says demurely, sliding her fingers up the length of her braid. "That tux looks so good on you. I told you anything would look good on you."

He stares back at her, and when he realizes he can see her nipples straining against the thin fabric of her tank top and there's a thin band of her stomach showing above the tiny shorts that are slung low on her hips, he swallows and prays she doesn't notice his pants tenting as his cock swells. God, how does she not know the effect she has on him? "Uh, thanks," he replies lamely.

"So what are you doing here?" she repeats, taking a step towards him. "Shouldn't you be on the way to the beach to have sex with Madge Undersee?"

"What?" he gasps incredulously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She blinks and shrugs nonchalantly. "I just figured…since you were all about this being such a stereotypical experience that your night would culminate in sex. With Madge. Your date."

"Fuck, Katniss, I was never going to have sex with Madge. I don't like her like that. I can't believe you thought that I would do that!"

"She likes you," Katniss replies bluntly. "Anyone can see it."

"I don't like Madge, Katniss. And geez, give me a little more credit than having sex with someone I don't like that," he huffs. A loud slam outside Katniss's window precludes a brief flood of headlights. Her mother must be leaving for work.

"I should have sucked it up and gone with you," she says abruptly, closing the short distance between them, and he can smell the lingering traces of mint from her toothpaste. "You're my best friend, Peeta. You're always there for me, and this is something I should have been able to do for you." She lifts her head and looks into his eyes. "Did you have fun?"

"I thought about you the entire time," he confesses, his pulse quickening. "It was nice and all, but I missed you, Katniss." He pulls the elastic band off her braid and unwinds the woven strands, carding his fingers through the wavy locks—she always lets him play with her hair, and he loves to do it. "The whole time I was thinking about you stuck at work. Why the hell did you go to work?"

"My mom and Prim both had plans. It seemed less pathetic than staying home alone. At least I made some money to stash away for summer."

"You're not pathetic," he chides, tucking her hair behind her ear. What he wouldn't give to lean in and kiss her right now.

"You still didn't answer me as to why you're here now, Peeta, and not heading to the shore with Madge and Finn and Annie and everyone."

"I…I wanted to be with you, Katniss," he reaffirms with a steadying breath, remembering his dad's words. "When I look back on this night, I want to say I spent it with my best friend. This is the only way I knew how to make that happen."

"You're such a sap," she says, but he can hear a discernible shift in her tone and she is suddenly looking at him carefully, her grey eyes shining.

"So which will it be: _Carrie_ or _Prom Night_?" he chuckles, but the laughter dies on his lips when she reaches up and traces her thumb along his jawline.

"Was the prom everything you thought it would be?" she asks. He feels a shiver frisson down his spine from her touch and a tingling spreads through his limbs.

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"It was a memorable night?"

"Sure," he replies cautiously. Her fingers caress his cheek lightly.

"You want to make it more memorable?" She pauses and raises her eyebrows at him. "We should have sex."

"What?!" He might actually stop breathing and his heart might actually stop beating and all the blood that's still pumping in his veins goes right to his cock. "What did you just say?" he stammers, his tongue crowding his mouth. Did she just say they should have sex? She tilts her chin up and curves her lips into a smile that resonates right between his legs.

"Isn't that what everyone does on prom night? Have sex?"

"Um, yeah. When they're dating they might…" His throat has gone paper dry and he's stunned that he's even able to manage to try to speak.

Her eyes spark defiantly, and she steps away from him. "So you don't want to have sex with me?"

"What? No, Katniss. Wait. Back up. You kind of just shocked the fuck out of me." He motions to her bed. "Let's sit." She glares at him stubbornly but does sink down to the small twin bed, tucking her legs underneath her. He takes off his tuxedo jacket and drapes it over her desk chair before sitting beside her. "Are you really serious?" he says softly, ignoring the adrenaline surging through him, trying not to get his hopes up that at least one of his dreams might come true tonight.

She purses her lips and nods slowly. "Yeah. I mean we're, um, both still virgins, right?" He nods quickly. "Okay. Well, I kind of feel like it's just something we should do. With each other." She exhales and he can see that her hands are shaking slightly and her voice is tremulous as she continues to speak. "We're best friends, Peeta," she emphasizes. "You were my first kiss. You might as well be my first time, too."

He can't believe what he's hearing: it really sounds like she _wants_ to have sex with him. His erection throbs against the fly of his tuxedo pants, and his entire body hums with nervous energy. She stares at him expectantly, and he takes her trembling hands in his. "Are you _sure_? You don't want to save yourself…" She snorts derisively, the sharp noise startling him.

"Peeta, please. I'm not saving myself for some asshole who's just going to break my heart. I'm never getting married. And I don't need any of that bed of roses shit." She inches towards him again. "Besides you already brought me flowers," she adds, her voice softening as she gestures towards the wildflowers. "Please, Peeta. I want this."

She rises onto her knees and cups his jaw, her lips ghosting over his; the pressure of her mouth is tentative at first, but he can't resist angling his head and moving his mouth more forcefully against hers to deepen the kiss. And then he hears himself murmur the word, "Okay."

She breaks the kiss and he sees her grey irises have darkened to a smoky charcoal. "Okay?" she repeats, her voice raw. He nods and she releases a long breath she's obviously been holding.

"Yeah, okay." Fuck it. Why shouldn't they have sex? He's wanted her so badly for so long that he knows he's probably not thinking that clearly, but she wouldn't suggest it if she didn't really want it, right? Suddenly his stomach pitches uneasily and his palms begin to sweat.

"So, um, how do you want to do this?" she asks.

His mind is like a whirling Dervish and he has to take a few deep breaths to get his bearings. He's actually going to have sex—with his best friend. If someone had asked him before the night began if he had expected it to lead to this moment, he'd have thought there would have been a better chance of the prom being hit by a meteorite than him having sex with Katniss Everdeen. "Um, I guess we should take off our clothes."

She nods. "Okay." Her fingers toy with the hem on her tank top and as she begins to tug the fabric up, he swallows and stills her hand.

"Wait. Can I?"

Blinking several times, she stares at him. "Can you what?"

He motions shyly to her shirt. "Can I undress you?"

She shrugs and drops her hands to the side. "Uh, okay. If you want to." His own fingers tremble imperceptibly as he slowly drags her tank top up over her head, his breath hitching in his throat as his eyes rake over the delicious sight of her bare breasts. Holy shit; they're even better in the flesh than he ever imagined.

"Stop staring," she whispers, dropping her gaze. But he can't take his eyes off them. They're not huge, but they're _hers_ and so they're perfect. Her nipples have puckered into tight little buds, and he aches to put his mouth on them. Will she allow that? He's starting to get overwhelmed by all the logistics of her proposition. Is this just sex or can he touch her? Taste her? Goddammit, he wants to explore every last inch of her.

She fidgets anxiously, her breasts bouncing. "Peeta, come on." Impatiently, she wiggles out of her sleep shorts and he sucks in a harsh breath at her nearly nude form, clad in nothing but a practical pair of pale blue cotton boy shorts. He waits for her to make a move towards him to begin undressing him, but when she remains frozen in place, chewing on her lip, he takes the initiative to do it himself. Hands still shaking, he untucks his shirt and then works the delicate buttons through each hole, easing it off his shoulders. He sees her throat bob visibly and feels her gaze on his chest. He removes his shoes and socks before making quick work of his belt and pants, and her eyes focus on the crotch of his boxer briefs where his erection juts out prominently.

"What now?" she asks softly.

"We're not naked yet," he teases, hoping to keep the mood light and thus ease any of their anxieties at this impending alteration in their relationship. Nothing will be the same once they cross this line. The prospect dually excites and terrifies him.

"Shouldn't we, um…" She glances at his discarded pants on the floor. "Shouldn't we have protection?"

_Fuck. _ He definitely does _not_ have that. He rubs at the back of his neck. "I don't have any," he confesses. She gapes at him.

"Are you serious?"

It dawns on him as she keeps darting looks at his pants that she assumes he has condoms in his pocket. "Fucking A, Katniss! I told you I wasn't going to have sex with Madge! I don't have any condoms! It never crossed my mind to shove one in my jacket or anything."

"Well, shit." She huffs out a breath. "Shit, okay, hold on." She rushes past him and opens her door, and he gawks at the shapely curve of her ass in the boy shorts—damn, she has an amazing body. He can only imagine how the guys would respond if they knew what Katniss hides beneath the looser clothes she favors.

She's back in a flash holding a foil package in her hand. "Thank God for my mom, right?" she says wryly as she tosses him the prophylactic. "Now what?"

He can think of about a hundred things he'd like to do to her, but he really, really just wants to keep kissing her. "We should, ah—um, foreplay would be good," he suggests as he sets the condom down on her nightstand.

"Okay." She licks her lips and plays with a lock of her hair. "On my bed?"

"We don't have to yet. Come here," he murmurs, holding out his arms to her. She hesitates but walks towards him, and he stifles a groan as he envelops her in his arms and he feels her perky little breasts flatten against his bare chest. "Can I kiss you again?"

She rolls her eyes and links her arms up around his neck, sending a sharp shiver down his spine when she plays with the short hairs there. "Peeta, you'd better not ask permission for every thing we're about to do." He opens his mouth to protest, but her lips latch on to his and she licks her way inside, swirling and lapping at his tongue with hers. He can taste her toothpaste now, and the cool mint coupled with their hot breath is intoxicating. Kissing her is even better than he remembers, their mouths moving effortlessly. His pulse races wildly as he slides his hands down the curve of her waist and tentatively cups her ass. The flesh is firm but malleable beneath the cotton of her panties, and he squeezes gently. She whimpers a little and rises on her toes to kiss him more hungrily. The force she exerts backs him up until his knees hit her mattress and he falls down onto the bed, pulling her with him. He grunts as one of her palms presses down on his stomach, his abdominal muscles tensing under the pads of her fingers as she traces the defined lines experimentally.

"Why are you so perfect?" she asks, throwing her leg over his hip to straddle him. His breathing grows shallow as she hovers over his erection, leaning forward to kiss him, and as she does, the feel of her nipples grazing his chest causes his cock to pulsate with his need for her.

"I'm not," he mumbles against her lips, letting his hands grip her hips gently. Her hair keeps falling into his face as she repeatedly slants her mouth over his, so he uses his left hand to gather it into his fist and hold it back. She smiles against his lips, and he groans in appreciation when he finally feels her settle on his rock-hard cock. Instinctively, he bucks up, and this time, she gasps and grinds down on him in response.

"You are," she exclaims. "God, you definitely are. It's annoying sometimes. But not right now. Right now—"

"Katniss, shut up," he orders softly, seizing the opportunity to sit up and cradle her lower back as he swipes his tongue along the seam of her lips and sucks her tongue into his mouth when she parts them. She shifts and wraps her legs around his waist, her heels spurring him closer as she continues to rock against him. Releasing his hold on her tongue, he gently coaxes her to explore his mouth, and she obliges eagerly, nipping at his lower lip as she breaks the kiss.

"I'm so turned on right now," she pants, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "C'mon, Peeta. Let's do this."

As much as he suspects he won't last long when he finally pushes inside her, he doesn't want this moment to go too fast. He needs to slow her down; not an easy task—Katniss is one of the most impulsive, impatient people he knows.

He nearly comes in his shorts when she inches backwards and reaches down between them, rubbing him through the cotton of his boxers. "Whoa," he whispers, pushing her hand away. Her pupils are fat with desire, and it takes a moment for the little amber flecks to appear as they always do when she's annoyed—but they do.

"What?" she whines. "I want this, Peeta."

"I want this, too," he whispers thickly. "Why rush it?" He brushes his thumbs over her cheekbones and traces the outline of her lips gently with his pinkie finger. She surprises him by flicking out her tongue and suckling at the digit.

"Why wait?" she challenges.

"I want to touch you." There. He said it.

Her eyes narrow. "Then stop stalling and touch me."

He wraps his arm around her waist and uses his weight to roll her body under him, her hair sprawling over the pillowcase, her chest swelling with the deep breath she draws. With a measured breath of his own, he reaches down and covers one of her breasts with his palm, shuddering as he moves his fingers and her nipple pebbles against it. He's actually touching her breast. It feels incredible, and he was right—it fits perfectly in his hand. He pinches one erect nipple gently, reveling in the keening cry that she emits when he does.

"Can I—"

"Dammit, Peeta, I told you not to ask me for permission," she growls, cupping the back of his neck and roughly tugging his mouth down to her breast. "Go ahead."

Tentatively, he wets his lips and darts his tongue out to lick the little bud, and her back arches off the bed. Grinning, he laves it more thoroughly, dragging his tongue around the soft skin. He returns to her nipple, suckling it eagerly before kissing a path across her breastbone and turning his attention to the other one. She mewls her approval and threads her fingers through his hair, tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck.

He keeps thinking to himself that this can't be real as he moves lower and maps the planes of her abdomen with his mouth, pressing kisses to her navel and rubbing his mouth at the waistband of her panties. Glancing up at her, she nods back at him from under hooded eyes. She lifts her hips and watches intently as he slides the boy shorts down her toned legs, tossing them to the floor.

Holy fuck.

In all his fantasies about Katniss, he's always envisioned her nearly bare down there because, well, most of the websites he looks at and the porn he watches have girls with virtually no pubic hair at all. In reality, he's also assumed that Katniss would be fairly dismissive about grooming her private parts and would likely say she doesn't have time for that bullshit. So when he stares down at the short, neatly trimmed dark hair above the visible glistening at the juncture of her thighs, he's pleasantly surprised that she is so much closer to his own visions than he expected. His cock strains, and his balls tense.

"_You're_ perfect, you know," he appraises, cupping her in his hand, and she thrusts her pelvis up, moaning softly. He knows from the awkward brotherly conversations he's had with Rye that the more aroused the girl is, the easier sex is for her—especially the first time. Experimentally, he uses his fingers to part her folds and groans when he feels how wet she already is. He explores the slick heat until he finds her swollen clit, and he thinks he might lose it when she writhes under his touch and cries out his name. He's never enjoyed the sound of it more.

"I don't want to wait any longer," she pleads. "Please, Peeta." She nudges him with her knee, and a sharp jab of pain seizes his balls with the contact. He muffles his cry of pain, but her eyes widen, her face stricken. "Oh, fuck, Peeta! I'm sorry!"

"It's all right," he grits out, grimacing and adjusting his throbbing erection. "But let me finish, ah, what I was doing. I—um, I've heard it will be better for you if you're…" He loses his train of thought with the needy look she gives him, pursing his lips at him. He resumes touching her, his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the bundle of nerves. Her eyes close and her hips begin to undulate, matching the rhythm of his hand.

He really wants to replace his fingers with his mouth and taste her, but he's not sure she'd allow it. It seems like a really intimate act—which is kind of ridiculous since they're about to have sex. Bu as he slowly pushes a finger inside her and curls it forward, his thumb presses on her clit and her entire body seizes and shudders then he feels her walls pulsing around his finger, and she's whimpering and murmuring incoherent words. He can't contain the proud smirk on his lips when he realizes he just gave her an orgasm. If only he could freeze this moment…but he knows that he'll never forget the sight of her sprawled under him—he's never seen anything sexier than her face when she came just now.

"Shit, Peeta," she breathes when she finds her voice and meets his eyes. "That was fucking incredible…so much better than when I do that myself." He freezes; did she just admit to him that she touches herself? She licks her lips and motions to his shorts. "Why don't you take those off now?"

He dutifully rises from the bed and tugs his boxer briefs down, letting them pool at his feet. As he steps over them, her mouth rounds into an 'o' and she props herself up on her elbows, eyes wide.

"Oh my God, you're big," she gapes, awestruck. He feels his cheeks flood with heat and glances down as his cock projecting upward. He knows from the taunts in the locker room that he's well endowed—he thought it was supposed to be a good thing. From the panicked look on her face that she's failing to conceal, he fears she's going to chicken out. "Can I—"

"No need for permission, remember?" he murmurs, taking a step back towards the bed. She smiles bashfully and clamors to her knees, her eyes transfixed on his as she wraps her small hand around his aching cock and grips him tightly. Oh Jesus fucking Christ—her touch is like heaven. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, she's got her bottom lip between her teeth and she's staring at her hand in concentration, pumping him slowly. His balls start to tingle, and he places his hand over hers, stilling it in the middle of her ministrations. "You can't. I don't want to come yet and if you don't stop…" She pulls back her hand, her eyes apologetic, and he offers her a smile. "Are you ready?"

She nods frantically and grabs the condom off the nightstand. He sees her fingers trembling as she struggles to rip open the foil, but when she finally extricates the thin disk of latex from the package, he gently takes it from her hand and she watches him, fascinated, as he rolls the condom down his shaft.

His heart pounds and his stomach tenses as she lies back down, her lips curving into smile. Holy shit, this is really happening. Real, real, real. He carefully positions himself over her, a thrill curling through him when she immediately lunges up to kiss him. Their tongues wrestle for dominance, and he swallows her sigh when she reaches down and grabs his dick. It grazes her clit as she settles it against her core and she moans softly. He closes his eyes and braces his entire weight on his elbows as he starts to ease himself inside her. Instinctively, her thighs grip him like a vise; he reaches down to gently coax her into spreading her legs wider. As he opens his eyes again and lifts his head, he sees her grey irises flood with pain and she screws her eyes shut and her face contorts.

"Hey," he says softly, but it's nearly impossible to form words with the sensations that overwhelm him. "Hey, K—Katniss, it's okay. I'll, I'll go slow."

She shakes her head violently. "Do it fast please," she gasps, her nails digging into the corded flesh of his broad shoulders. He sucks in a breath and thrusts hard, meeting resistance for a fraction of a second as she yelps. He presses a soothing kiss to her temple and nuzzles her neck affectionately when he pulls out and pushes back into her, whispering quiet words of encouragement, telling her how good she feels—and she does feel fucking amazing. He struggles to find the right pace, wanting to prolong this for as long as possible, and he's happy when her own hips eventually begin to rotate and meet his erratic thrusts. The tightening in his balls intensifies and his groin floods with heat and he knows his release is close.

"You can't know how happy I am right now," he murmurs in her ear, but he stops short of professing his love to her. Her grey irises are hazy as she nods and impetuously, he hooks his arm under her left knee and snaps his hips, driving into her with one last deep thrust before he grunts and his cock pulses, spilling into the condom. She clutches at his back and pulls him down to her, and he wonders if she feels as light-headed and boneless as he does right now. Their sweat-slicked bodies cling to each other and he whispers feathery kisses along her clavicle, up to her jaw and on both of her closed eyelids.

When he goes to withdraw from her, she claws at his back again and her eyes fly open. "No," she rasps, her voice raw. "Stay with me." He laughs gently and brings her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles.

"I was just going to get rid of the condom," he explains. She hesitates but releases her hold on him and he slips out of her and removes the used condom, fumbling a bit when he tries to tie it off. After wrapping it in toilet paper and burying it below the trash in Katniss and Prim's bathroom, he sneaks a quick glimpse at himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair is disheveled and his cheeks are flushed, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and brows, but he smirks at his reflection. Fuck, yes, that just happened.

He had just fucked Katniss Everdeen. Wait…no…he had just made love to Katniss Everdeen. No. Does anyone his age even say that? They had slept together. Yeah. That was better. And it was…there aren't enough adjectives to describe it.

He quietly pads back to her bed and finds her curled onto her side, back to him, her dark hair like a veil shielding her face. A sudden wave of panic crests in his gut and his blood runs cold. What if she regrets it? What if she never wants to see him again? Oh, shit, what if he fucked things up by agreeing to do…that—to do…her? "Katniss?" he whispers. She glances up over her shoulder and he's relieved to see a contented smile on her lips. "Should we, ah, get dressed?" She arcs her back leisurely and the sheet falls away as she stretches, revealing her breasts to him and goddamn, he already wants to do her all over again. Rolling her shoulders and stretching one more time, she yawns and shakes her head, patting the bed beside her.

"Come stay with me," she repeats. "Prim won't be home until after ten and my mom works til noon tomorrow." He briefly considers mentioning the beach, but he decides they can talk about going to the shore and joining their friends in the morning. Right now he only wants her. He slides back into the bed and she tucks her lithe body against his, guiding his arms to wrap around her, but her ass pressing against his dick feels incredible and how there's no way he's not going to get hard—again.

"So," he begins, his chin resting on her shoulder, "how do you feel?"

"I dunno. No different, I guess. It hurts a little down there," she replies. "It feels good to get that over with though." She yawns again. "So sleepy. Night, Peeta."

Wait. What?

* * *

_**Author's Notes**-_Thank you so much for the incredible response that this story continues to receive and for the kind words and PMs you guys send me. This chapter made me very nervous to write and required a lot of hand holding from RynMar given I've never been to a bachelor party myself and I'm generally not a fan of excessive debauchery, haha. But Finn's party has elements of too many real parties that my poor husband has been part of (Finnick's little, uh, fetish is based on a friend of his, just a different cartoon character) and I also gleaned some knowledge from a dear friend who is a cocktail server in one of the casinos on the weekends.

A quick PSA about my writing...I am constantly working on **all** of my stories, and I update as regularly as possible. I have had quite a few PMs about _One by One_, which makes me so happy because thrillers are the kind of writing I hope to publish one day, but I want readers to know that story won't update again til it's nearly finished. I will be posting it like "episodes" so every few days, and it's only planned to be ten chapters. Thanks for your patience as I get that one perfect.

I was asked to write for the Fandom4LLS charity project, along with a host of exceedingly talented authors, and I have also been working on that. If you are interested in making a nominal charitable donation to this wonderful cause and receive a wealth of fanfiction in thanks, please check out their website (fandom4lls at blogspot dot com). As of now, I plan to donate a one shot, as well as a scene from a future yet-unpublished historic AU I am working on.

Finally, many thanks to RynMar and streetlightlove for their invaluable advice and honesty in the writing of this story. And I must give a big hug to Pookieh for always supporting my work and being such an amazing friend. If you're not reading her story, _Ghosts of Seasons Past_, you're missing out...and it's almost done!

Thanks for reading. ~C~


	5. Chapter 4-The Way That You Rock Me

_**Author's Note-**This chapter would not be possible without the incredible insight and effort of ILoVeRynMar. The second scene literally would not have been written without three straight nights of back and forth editing and adding and removing and adding over chat, and she knows I love her dearly for putting up with my OCD over it.  
_

_Thanks also to streetlightlove for prereading and throwing in her two cents. _

_THG belongs to Suzanne Collins. Rated M for language and sexual situations. _

* * *

"_The Way that You Rock Me…"_

_~Now~_

_(26 years old)_

* * *

The first thing he does when he wakes up Sunday morning, his head like an anvil, the pounding worse than even the night before, is to send Katniss a short text telling her they'll be leaving Atlantic City shortly and he should be back at Finn's by noon. As the guys intermittently rouse from their respective comas, they take turns showering and packing up and attempting to make the suite look a little less like a zoo. The party bus idles in front of the hotel right at ten, but it's a silent ride home; Marvel and Cato and Finnick all fall asleep again no sooner than when the bus pulls onto the expressway.

Peeta gazes absently out the window, periodically glancing down at the iPhone in his hand, but Katniss never answers his text. His stomach feels like one giant knot and the acrid taste in his mouth won't go away. How can make him feel like complete shit when the burden of guilt should lie soundly with her?

Once the bus has deposited them at Finnick's condo and everyone has left but Peeta, he follows Finn inside. Since Katniss drove him to the train station, he has no car at Finn's place like the other guys, but he refuses to ask Katniss to come get him.

He looks around the foyer at the numerous labeled boxes that Annie has already begun dropping off. He thinks it's sweet that Finnick's fiancé insisted they not live together before the wedding; Annie has long been surprisingly old-fashioned about a lot of things. It took her nearly six months to agree to go out with Finnick after he decided that working his way through the cheerleading squad wasn't as much fun as he had initially thought. Annie had caught his eye, her reserved nature and classically beautiful looks a stark contrast to the girls Finnick had conquering. After some initial leeriness about Finnick's ability to commit to one girl, he wooed her and won her over and the rest was history. Peeta has no doubt that they are a perfect match and this will really be one of those 'til death do us part' marriages.

The little nap on the way home seems to have invigorated Finnick. "Hey man, you want to hang for a bit? I'll drive you home later?"

Peeta smiles gratefully at him. "Yeah, I can stay for a few minutes, but I've got a shitload of papers to grade and a few exams left to score. And laundry to do and…"

Finnick snorts and opens the fridge, grabbing two Vitamin Waters. "Let's give our livers a rest," he laughs, offering one bottle to Peeta. "The papers and laundry will be there in an hour." He motions to the tiny patio beyond his kitchen, and Peeta follows him through the sliding-glass door to settle down at the small table, the afternoon sun dappling the pavement through the leafy trees bordering the tiny yard.

"That was a fucking epic weekend, Peet—the kind we'll tell our sons about someday. Thanks, man."

Peeta grins and slaps his friend's hand. "I'm glad you had fun, buddy. I'm really honored to be your best man. You and Annie…I'm so happy for you two."

Finnick leans back on the chaise lounge and lowers his sunglasses. "I'm a lucky man." He coughs. "Speaking of getting lucky, how was that blonde waitress in the sack?" He gives Peeta a knowing smirk, but Peeta cringes at the memory of his less-than-stellar quickie with the girl.

"Uh, it was okay, I guess. I was kind of too drunk to really enjoy it."

"She was hot," Finnick sighs. "Great rack. From now on, I'm going to have to live vicariously through your dick, my friend. Not that I have any regrets," he adds hastily. "I'm going to be more than happy to be with only one woman for the rest of my life."

Peeta gazes up at the sky, avoiding his friend's eyes. What's he supposed to say—that he's the one who wishes he were marrying the only girl he's ever loved—that _he's_ the envious one?

Finnick raises his sunglasses again and fixes a severe look on him when several moments of silence pass between them. "Peet, what gives?" He shakes his head, but Finnick knows him too well. "What did she do now?"

Peeta feigns innocence. "Who?"

Finnick rolls his eyes. "The only woman who can make you act like a morose motherfucker after the weekend we just had. Katniss."

Peeta scratches at his stubbled jaw and picks at the label on the Vitamin Water. "She called me last night while we were in the room with the strippers. I kind of hung up on her and when I texted her this morning…she hasn't answered me. She's probably pissed at me."

Finnick slams down his water and leans over. "Peet, man, I love you. And you know I love Katniss. But shit, I'm sick as fuck of that look in your eyes—"

"Finn," Peeta interjects, rubbing at his throbbing temples. He automatically feels the need to defend Katniss, but Finnick holds up a hand and quiets him.

"No, I need to get this off my chest. Consider this your intervention as far as Katniss Everdeen is concerned. You've put up with this 'friends with benefits' bullshit for too long. You don't deserve to be jerked around like this anymore. It's been almost ten years, Peeta. You don't think there's something really fucked up about that?"

He closes his eyes and lets Finnick's brutally honest words wash over him. "I love her, Finn," he says simply, as pathetic as he knows it sounds.

"I know you do. And that's what is so fucked up, Peet. Does she _know_ you love her as much as you do? Other than that one time, have you ever told her again?"

Peeta sighs and peels at the label on the water again, tearing it away in strips. "No," he replies meekly, cringing at the pitiful edge to his voice.

Finnick groans and rubs his face in his hands. "Then this fucking mess is as much your fault as it is hers. You two need counseling, I swear. For an English teacher and a guy who can smooth talk anyone into anything, the words never seem to be there when you need to talk to Katniss."

"I don't want to lose her, Finn."

"What makes you think you'd lose her? Hasn't she said you'll always be friends? You've told me that a thousand times."

Peeta heaves a sigh. "You're right. I'm starting to think that I can't do this anymore. And I don't _want_ to do this anymore. I want a life with a wife and kids. And she doesn't."

"You know that for sure?"

"Your wedding and Gale's wedding…all she's gone on and on about lately is how marriage is pointless and nothing is forever and…"

"Have you ever asked her point blank if she'd marry you?"

He snorts derisively. "Are you fucking serious? No, Finn, I haven't. You really think I'd ask her a question like that when no one but you and Annie know what it is that she and I have been doing all these years? Fuck, not even her sister knows."

"You deserve to be happy, Peeta. But can you be happy if that wife isn't Katniss and those kids aren't hers?" Finnick asks. Before he can answer, Finnick holds up a hand. "I'm sorry, man. I know this is a lot to think about. So do me a favor. Do just that: think on it. And for my sake, don't do anything until after the wedding. Annie will fucking murder me if there's tension on Saturday because my best man and one of her bridesmaids can't be in the same room."

"I'd never do anything to jeopardize your day, Finn. You know that."

Finnick smiles and leans back. "I know. I love you, Peet. Like I said, I just want you happy."

Peeta sighs. That makes two of them.

* * *

He jiggles the key in the lock—the damn thing always sticks when the weather is humid, which today definitely is. His unruly curls are evidence enough; he really needs a haircut. He'll have to stop by the barber tomorrow after school. He needs a shave too, but that will have to wait until tomorrow morning. Bumping the door with his hip, it finally gives and he stumbles into his apartment.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee greets him, and he glances into the kitchen. The coffeemaker's light glows red, and the carafe is filled with the dark black liquid, steam snaking up from its spout. He drops his duffel bag at his feet and closes the door behind him.

"Welcome home." He jumps, and when he glances in the direction of her voice, his cock reacts instantaneously, stiffening at the sight of Katniss on his couch wearing nothing but a smile. One finger lazily twirls the end of her braid while the other perches suggestively on her bowed knee.

As aroused as her naked body gets him, he averts his eyes and throws his keys on the counter. "Thought you lost your key." He sneaks another glance at her out of his peripheral vision.

"I did," she confirms, circling her hand around her upper thigh. "Your super let me in. I think that guy thinks I live here."

"I, uh, thought you were angry at me. You never answered my text this morning."

She raises one eyebrow at him seductively and rises from the couch, sauntering toward him. "I wanted to surprise you. I kind of hoped that Finnick would drive you home. I guess I could have waited for you at his house, but I'm pretty sure I could get in trouble driving naked." She laughs. "Remember that time when I came to visit you at school and—"

"I remember," he cuts her off before he can get caught up in the memory of the time she showed up at his dorm room completely nude—at least, she was once she encouraged him to undo the knot of the trench coat she wore.

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"I hung up on you last night," he replies bluntly.

Katniss smiles and shrugs. "Yeah, I know. But I shouldn't have bothered you while you were with your friends." She levers up on her toes and hovers inches from his mouth. "Aren't you going to kiss me hello?"

"I've got a lot to do today, Katniss, and I'm really fucking tired so…"

She presses her lips to his briefly but when he doesn't respond, she backs down and shifts on the balls of her feet, her expression wounded for a split second. "I made you coffee," she says softly. "And I figured you'd need a release from all that 'looking and no touching' at Finn's party and that after I welcomed you home I could do your laundry for you so you can get your papers graded."

She makes it so difficult to stay mad at her. He can't deny that finding her naked on his couch on any other day would indeed be a most enticing surprise and have him shedding his own clothes in about two seconds, but his conversation with Finnick has his emotions more jumbled than ever.

He takes a deep breath and brushes past her, his palm grazing her bare hip as he passes, and he stalks into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. Until he inhaled the fragrant aroma, he hadn't been craving it. He usually drinks tea, but his body always yearns for the extra caffeine coffee can provide after he's been drinking. And she knows it. A mug has already been set out beside the machine and a brand-new bottle of sugar-free non-fat creamer also awaits him.

Katniss leans against the counter and watches him as he prepares his coffee. "Did you want a cup?" he asks, his eyes briefly landing on her breasts. After having seen so many fake chests over the course of forty-eight hours, her familiar natural curves are a sight for sore eyes.

"No, thanks," she murmurs, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "So did Finnick have the time of his life?"

"Ah, yeah, he sure seemed to." He takes a long sip of the coffee and walks out of the kitchen, mug in hand. He's not really in the mood to rehash the entire weekend, and fortunately, as she usually does, Katniss lets it go when he doesn't willingly elaborate. She hesitates from her spot by the counter, toying with her braid again, seemingly indifferent to her nudity.

She probably assumed he would have jumped her bones by now, and while it's taking a lot of willpower not to let her state of undress affect him, he's pretty proud of himself for ignoring his hard-on and keeping things so tempered between them.

"Did you want to take a shower?" she asks, the tip of her tongue flicking out to wet her lips.

"Took one in the hotel, I'm good."

She blinks and her breasts swell with the deep breath he sees her take. "Okay, then." She may keep her face devoid of emotion, but he hears the distress in her terse reply. Her hips sway as she walks towards where he dropped his bag and his eyes follow her tight little ass as she walks into his bedroom. Fuck, he wishes she'd just put her clothes back on. His dick twitches again.

Taking another swig of his coffee, he lingers in the doorway to his room, watching her unpack his bag. She lifts the shirt he wore to the strip club last night, wrinkling her nose as the odor wafts off it. "I'll do that," he says hastily, moving towards her, but she clutches the dirty shirt to her bare breasts and shakes her head.

"It's okay, Peeta. Go do your work. I know you have papers to grade." She tosses the shirt into the hamper with the rest of his laundry. "Cigars, huh? Who was smoking?"

"What? Oh, none of us. I guess that just lingers on you. There were definitely some guys in the club who were smoking them."

His mouth twists when he sees the shirt he had on Friday night in her hands—the one he wore when he fucked the cocktail waitress. Does it smell like her? His nose tics when her remembers the heady, overwhelming scent that clung to her.

It must stink because Katniss's expression alters; her brows furrow and her forehead creases slightly. "Do those strippers bathe in the cheap perfume they wear? Ugh." She balls up the shirt and lobs it towards the hamper as she turns and gives him a coy smile. "Did you guys all get lap dances?" she teases. "Maybe I should have just left my clothes on and reminded you what I can do for you."

Like the crack of a rifle, her last words immediately spark the exchange he had with Brutus at the strip club about Katniss dancing for him, and the embers of jealousy are swiftly stoked in him.

"It's not from the strippers," he says, knowing the evasive answer will clearly pique her curiosity, and indeed her brows lift back up.

"Oh no? Who then?"

"Just a girl I met Friday night."

Her mouth curves imperceptibly. "I'm sure there were plenty of them crawling all over you guys. Was she hot?"

He visualizes the blonde. "Yeah, she was." Cashmere was exactly the kind of woman who turned guys' heads and made women roll their eyes at her excessive makeup and tight clothes and fake body parts.

"Well, where's she from? Did you get her number?"

His stomach starts to churn unexpectedly. "Ah, no. I didn't think to ask." It's true—he had zero intention of seeing her after that night.

"Too drunk?" she prods, a knowing glint in her eye.

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

She plants her hands on her hips. "Well she must have been all over you if your shirt reeks of her shitty perfume. Did you make out with her?"

When she smirks, he rubs at his jaw, the stubble rough on the pads of his fingers. "It was a bachelor party, Katniss. Things always get a little…out of control."

Something flashes in her lovely grey eyes—_comprehension? apprehension?—_and she lowers them back to his bag, systematically pulling out the rest of his clothes and his swim trunks and emphatically stuffs them into the hamper; her breasts bounce as she does, and his eyes are drawn to the stiff peaks of her nipples. "How out of control? Did you take her back to the room?"

"Um…no," he admits, his teeth bearing down on his lower lip. He hesitates, his queasiness cresting as he nods. He might have been looking to goad her a bit with his initial comment, but he assumed she would have dropped the matter as quickly as she did before. "We…ah…we never made it to the room."

"Where then? The bathroom? That's classy."

"It was a private lounge."

She frowns. "Did she blow you?"

"Katniss—"

"Was it good?" There's almost a taunting lilt to her voice now and she doesn't wait for him to answer before she keeps firing questions at him. "Could she even get you off?"

"She tried."

Katniss snorts contemptuously. "Not hard enough then."

"You don't always get me off when I've been drinking, Katniss," he retorts.

"No." She smirks again. "But I've succeeded more than a few times. Cause I don't give up that easily." When he falls silent, he expects her to finally end the interrogation—but no, she persists, advancing upon him, and he struggles to keep his eyes on her face because a totally naked Katniss has long been his kryptonite. "How far did it go? Did you go down on _her _too?"

"Ah…no…"

"Did you touch her then? Did you make her come? Did she scream your name?" She's relentless, her chin jutting up defiantly as she stops inches from him. "Did she even _know_ your name? Did you know hers?"

"Why the fuck do you care, Katniss?" he yells, his frustration boiling over. "Why do you suddenly want to know the sordid little details about who I sleep with?"

Her demeanor alters immediately, her shoulders square and her body goes rigid. "Did you?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

"Did I what?"

"Did you sleep with her, Peeta? Did you fuck her?"

There's no use in hiding the truth, but his hesitation and the silence that follows is enough of a reply for her. Her breasts rise visibly with her intake of breath, and her eyes meet his for a fleeting second—long enough that he sees the hurt emanating from them. Silently, she walks to his closet and puts his duffel bag away then turns and hoists his hamper into her arms, setting it down with a thump in front of his apartment door.

He puts down his coffee on the little table beside the door and crosses his arms. Katniss continues to move around his living room, avoiding eye contact with him, and a ribbon of guilt unfurls through him.

But resentment supplants it quickly. He did nothing wrong by sleeping with that waitress—he and Katniss are not a couple. It's not like he cheated on her; she has no right to be hurt or angry. And besides, he's not the only one who was with someone else this weekend. He doesn't bother to suppress the venom from seeping into his voice when he asks her, "How was _your_ date last night?"

She stops and narrows her eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

"Your date. Last night. The restaurant?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" she says bitterly.

He releases a breath, his tone matching hers in animosity. "Butcher and Singer. You wanted to know the restaurant I took you to for your birthday last year. I figured you had a date and that's why you were asking."

Those amber flecks appear in her irises and she looks around furiously, stomping towards the ottoman where her discarded clothes lay. She grabs her bra angrily and starts to fumble with the garment. "I didn't have a goddamn date, Peeta," she snaps, tugging at the bra's tangled straps. "I was home all night fixing up my fucking resume so I can start looking for a new job before the town council cuts my ass and I can't pay my rent." Her throat bobs and she hastily looks away.

Before he can even feel sorry for her, she spits out, "And if you must know, I was asking about the restaurant because it was the nicest meal I've ever had, and Rory was trying to find a fancy place for Prim's graduation dinner. I said I couldn't remember the name off the top of my head but when I got it from you, I'd take care of the reservations for him. He's going to propose to her." Her voice quavers thinly on the last sentence, and she flails her arms in agitation as she curses and struggles to work them through the bra straps. "And I remembered the name like five minutes after I sent you that message," she finishes. "It was just instinct that I texted you."

He completely forgot Prim graduates from Temple this week. Katniss had asked him to take the day off on Thursday and attend the ceremony with her, but he hadn't given her a firm 'yes' yet.

Her nostrils flare faintly and a tiny muscle under her left eye twitches. He strides over to her and grabs the bra from her elbows, which is as far as she's managed to raise it. "Katniss," he begins, meeting her eyes, and then he can't take it anymore. The fire kindles in his veins, licking a path directly to his groin as he tosses the bra back to the floor and her steadily dilating pupils reveal her own desire for him.

His hands find purchase on her lower back and he crushes her naked body against his fully clothed one, capturing her lips in a searing embrace. Katniss whimpers and tugs at the hem of his shirt, breaking their kiss to drag his shirt up over his head. Her palms rake down his pectoral muscles, probing the hard flesh of his stomach, and she swirls a finger through the fine trail of hair below his navel.

He pushes her down onto the ottoman and places his hands on her knees, her eyes widening when he roughly wrenches her legs apart so she is practically straddling the upholstered stool. Scooting her ass to the edge of it with a firm grip on her hips, he grazes his mouth along her thigh, and she squirms, probably from the unfamiliar sensation of several days' worth of scruff on his face and neck on her sensitive flesh. After showering her inner thighs with harsh kisses, he parts her folds with his tongue and she shudders instinctively, throwing her head back, an ardent moan escaping from her lips. She claws at his hair, her back bowing before his arm drapes across her lap to hold her in place. His tongue meanders through the slick heat and he laps at her, savoring the unique erotic essence that he'd know anywhere.

"Oh fuck," she cries when he latches on to her clit and alternates worrying it with his tongue and his teeth. She bucks her hips fitfully and her fingers clutch at the sides of the ottoman. When he thrusts his tongue inside her and uses his fingers to rub her clit more forcefully, her hands grope for his shoulders and they both tumble forward with the force of her lurching upward.

"C'mere," he growls, pulling her along his torso until her knees are on either side of his chin, just above his shoulders and he attacks the throbbing nub again, the frantic strokes of his tongue matching the revolutions of her pelvis as she rides his face.

"Peeta," she keens, and he can sense her rocking becoming more sporadic. His mouth works her feverishly, and with a few more earnest sucks, she cries out and her clit vibrates against his mouth. Her legs tremble from supporting her weight as her body jerks with the intensity of her climax. He pulls her against his mouth, kissing the reddened flesh where his stubble has rubbed her raw and his nose nuzzles the swollen bundle of nerves until she pleads with him, "Enough, enough!" He falls back and his head thumps the floor softly. "Fuck," she murmurs again, easing back onto her haunches just over the straining bulge in his jeans. "God, your mouth." She rolls her shoulders and runs her hands over her breasts. "I could have you between my legs all day." She lowers herself to him, sweeping her tongue along his upper lip before she kisses him hard. "You're the only one who takes care of me," she whispers.

The words ignite something else in him, his possessive side—the side that wants to tell the world that this woman _is_ his, no matter what she says or doesn't say or does or doesn't do. He grabs at her waist and catches her off-guard, easily shoving her off of him so he can stand to unbutton and unzip his jeans. He kicks them off and quickly sheds his underwear as well. She glances up at him surprised when he sinks to his knees behind her and plants a palm on the small of her back once more to coax her forward onto all fours. Then moving his hands back to her hips, he grips them tightly, fingers digging into her soft skin as he enters her from behind.

"Fuck, Peeta!" She rocks back against him as he slams into her again, the thwacks of skin meeting skin and his grunts filling the air. Her arms start to tremble and though he repositions one of his hands to wrap around her shoulders, his fingers reaching under to pinch her nipples, she clearly struggles to support her weight with the intensity of his thrusts.

"Hold on," he commands, withdrawing from her and motioning to the ottoman. "Move over there." She nods and crawls towards the footstool, laying her upper body flush against it, arms hugging the sides. He can't play with her breasts this way, but he'll find other ways to use his hands. Katniss wiggles her ass at him impatiently and with a primal growl he grasps her left hip and her velvety walls welcome his intrusion again. His other hand finds her braid and gently yanks it, raising her head so he can suckle the skin of her neck, applying enough pressure with his mouth to elicit moans of approval. He sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh, and the strangled cry she releases intensifies the sensation building in his balls.

"Harder," she begs. "God, please, harder." He groans and increases the pace of his thrusts, driving into her faster, nearly sliding completely out of her before plunging back in to the hilt again and again. She searches for his lips, angling her neck up to find him over her shoulder, and he roughly slants his mouth across hers, still clutching her braid. Between his bite marks and the scratches from his rough shadow of a beard, he sees that her neck is a mottled patchwork of red and white against the olive skin.

When he fucks her like this, she doesn't need his fingers on her clit to push her over the edge, and sure enough within a few minutes, her walls contract and clench him greedily. The prolonged moan of pleasure she issues almost spurs his own release, and he has to fight to keep from coming yet. Katniss's face is buried in the ottoman, her back heaving with her uneven breaths, and he lies down against her, nuzzling his nose into the crook of shoulder as he slows his thrusts and she continues to shudder beneath him. She mumbles something, but the words are lost in the plush fabric.

Flipping her over to face him, she starts to utter a protest but when he latches on to one of her nipples, her eyes loll back in her head and he grins against her breast. The new position can't be all that comfortable for her, her back bowed over the ottoman once more, her abdominal muscles tensing, but she locks her knees around his waist. When he sheathes himself inside her and repeatedly slams his hips against her pelvis, she screams his name amidst a string of obscenities, and he loses the battle, his orgasm cleaving through him as he comes in spurts. Katniss struggles to sit up and wraps her arms around him, peppering his sweaty neck with kisses as their ragged gasps for breath linger as the only sound in the apartment.

"Oh…my…" She never finishes her thought when his lips land on hers and she kisses him back dreamily. "Peeta," she murmurs, brushing his damp hair off his forehead.

His heartbeat slowly returns to normal and he pulls out of her, and she slumps down to the floor, one arm lazily thrown across her breasts, the other stretched fully above her head. She looks so peaceful, so happy that he kind of wants to forget about all the bullshit clogging his mind and just lay here with her, drawing idle circles on her abdomen. He wants to hold her all afternoon and tell her that the stupid girl in Atlantic City meant nothing to him, that she—Katniss—is all that matters to him and he loves her more than anything. He gazes down at her, sprawled out, eyes closed; the even rise and fall of her chest signals she has nodded off. Part of him revels in the fact he exhausted her so thoroughly that she fell asleep on the fucking floor—but so much for any heart-to-heart now.

After he cleans up and redresses, Peeta settles down at the table where he spreads out his schoolwork and begins methodically reading and grading papers. He can hear Katniss's measured breathing from the living room, but he only marks two essays before she appears beside him, slipping her tank top down over her breasts, not even bothering with her bra. She smiles at him and then walks towards the door, grabbing his laundry. She disappears with the hamper, the door closing with a quiet click. While his apartment does not have its own washer and dryer, each floor has its own machines and the ones on his floor are only a few doors down.

She returns a few minutes later and he feels her arms wind around his neck from behind, her lips ghosting over his cheek. "Did you want something to eat?"

"I…ah, sure," he replies, realizing that yeah, he's famished. He didn't eat nearly enough this weekend to offset the copious amount of alcohol that entered his system. She disappears again, and he taps the end of his pen on the table, a strange feeling creeping into his bones as he tries to focus on the paper in front of him.

When she places a toasted sesame seed bagel with cream cheese and a plate of fresh cantaloupe beside his stack of papers, she lowers her mouth to his for another slow kiss. "I'll let you get your work done."

She busies herself straightening up his living room—he continuously sneaks glances at her between papers—and eventually she flops onto his couch with a copy of _Entertainment Weekly._ That odd sensation fills him again, an uneasiness at the whole domesticity of the scene. Doing his laundry…preparing him a snack…cleaning up…it's all the sweet things that a girlfriend would do to be helpful. And it's never been like Katniss to do these kinds of things for him. At least, not until recently.

The realization refuels his exasperation with the whole fucking mess, and he's back to where he started: hating himself for letting his vulnerability when it comes to Katniss—and their unhealthy tendency to let their bodies speak for them instead of actually communicating about where they stand—interfere with his resolve to keep his distance from her until after the wedding. Cursing his weakness, he rubs his temples and says a silent prayer for strength.

It's going to be a long seven days.

* * *

_~Then~_

_The summer before senior year, one month after prom_

_(17 years old)_

* * *

Peeta flexes his hand and feels the mild ache in his fingers, and he cracks his knuckles before he turns his attention back to the elaborate cake on the counter. It's pain-staking work to adorn each tier of the massive wedding cake with the edible sugar pearls; his touch must be steady so each row of the iridescent candies is level and evenly spaced. He knows his mother will kill him if the cake isn't perfect; the bride-to-be is the daughter of one of her closest friends. And given the fact that his parents will be at the ceremony and reception tomorrow, he's sure his mother will gleefully report every last word that's spoken about Peeta's decorations.

He has no aspirations to be a baker like his father, but he can't deny that his natural talent for art allows him to garnish the specially commissioned cakes better than his father or any of the employees.

The bakery has been dead all week; school let out the previous Thursday, and most of the town seemed to immediately migrate to their houses at the Jersey shore or head off to more exotic destinations, like Antigua where Cato is with his family. He's had exactly six customers since he arrived at five a.m. It's mornings like today when he resents his brother and Katniss, who don't have to be at work at the movie theater until eleven, since on weekdays no movies are shown before noon, even in the summer.

Humming along with the radio, he continues to work diligently until the bell above the door tinkles and he glances up to see Katniss glide into the bakery, her hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing cut-off jean shorts and a bright green tank top. She flashes him a grin and crosses to the counter.

"Why would anyone want to eat that work of art? Seems like such a waste of your talent for a few pictures and the groom to 'pretend' to smash it into the bride's face."

"Hi to you, too," he murmurs, steadying his hand to place the final few ribbons of lavender icing along the bottom tier. She twists a tendril of dark hair around her index finger and leans against the counter; the movement pushes her breasts together to give him an eyeful of her cleavage over the neckline of the tank. He diverts his gaze back to the cake and tries not to think about if she even realizes she's doing it. It's too easy to close his eyes and conjure up a perfectly accurate vision of what lies beneath that top _and_ the bra.

"Did you want to do something today?" she asks. "I'm not working til three."

"I'm here til two," he replies and sees something akin to disappointment in her eyes before she lifts her lips at him.

"Oh, okay, then." She falls quiet and watches him intently as he fills a new piping bag with a deeper violet icing. "I take it the bride likes purple."

"I guess."

It's been weighing on his mind, eating at his conscience and his self-esteem for three weeks—three weeks that have felt like three _years—_that as he feared, Katniss has not said a word about what transpired on prom night, not the merest hint that anything changed between them and oh, they hadn't seen each other naked _and_ they hadn't had sex _and _they hadn't fallen asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

And_ he_ hasn't said a word about how she reached into his chest and pulled out his heart and stomped on it when she so cavalierly dismissed the absolute perfection of a moment he had fantasized about for years by saying she was 'glad to get that over,' like he was some kind of fucking shot you get at a physical or a root canal. His stomach ached just being in the same room as her; it was everything he had feared—he had fucked up their friendship by being foolish enough to give in to her suggestion. He never should have had sex with her.

The bell jingles again and a flock of girls jostle each other in the doorway, giggling and nudging each other. He doesn't recognize them; they appear a bit younger than him and Katniss, probably freshmen or sophomores. Katniss pivots on her chair and gives them a critical stare before turning her attention back to him, an expression of amusement etched on her face.

"Can I help you girls?" he calls, not quite prepared to stop his work if they aren't here to buy anything. Katniss constantly ribs him about the bevy of girls who loiter around Mellarks' just to, in her words, 'eye fuck' him.

"Um, yeah," one of them says slowly, a tall willowy blonde wearing a tiny pink halter-top. Her friends continue to snicker and stare at him. "Do you, um, make lattes and stuff here?"

"No, sorry," he replies. "There's a Starbucks two blocks from here." His mother has been making noise about expanding the bakery and making it more of a coffee house and offer teas and other beverages too, but so far, his father has resisted the idea.

"Oh." The blonde twists the hem of her shirt, exposing her flat stomach and a glittering belly ring. "Well, um, do you, ah have scones?" Katniss stifles a snort and bites her lip to keep from bursting out into laughter. Peeta sets down the bag of icing and wipes his hands on his apron.

"Yes, today we have blueberry, pecan and lemon." He motions to the case and waits for the girls to stop giggling.

"The pecan ones are amazing," Katniss pipes up, sliding her eyes at him.

"We'll have three lemons," the blonde declares, tossing her hair over her shoulder, ignoring Katniss. She approaches the counter as Peeta selects three scones with the pastry tongs and slides each into a white _Mellarks'_ bag.

"That'll be $7.23." The girl slides a ten across the counter and lets her fingers linger on Peeta's as he takes the bill to make change.

"So you play football, right?" she asks, licking her lips as Peeta hands over the coins and two dollars. He nods, shooting Katniss a dirty look for the perpetual smirk she's worn the entire time the girls have been in the bakery. "That's so cool."

"Ah, yeah. It's fun," he says absently. "Thanks for stopping by, ladies." He picks up his pastry bag again and returns to the cake on the back counter. He hears a quiet huff and a few whispers before the bell tolling signals the girls have left.

Katniss bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, those girls were_ so_ only here to hit on you! And you didn't even blink. That blonde girl was so pissed off when she left." Peeta presses his lips together but resumes the piping on the third tier. "She totally would have given you her number, Peeta. She was cute enough. A little skanky, 'cause she totally needs to wear a bra with that shirt but…"

"They were probably freshmen, Katniss." He drops his eyes to the cake and knits his brows. Is she seriously trying to play wingman for him right now?

"So Rye said your parents are going to that wedding tomorrow," she says casually, lifting a dome to snatch a sugar cookie before replacing the lid. "And he said he's having a few people over."

Peeta sighs exasperatedly. Of course he is. "He didn't tell me that." He's kind of annoyed that lately, Rye sees more of Katniss than he does, and although he knows she would never give his brother a second glance, Rye has always been competitive and there's a mild uneasiness Peeta feels at Rye spending his days and nights working alongside Katniss.

"Are you having anyone over?"

Peeta turns and meets her earnest expression. "You can come over, Katniss. Rye won't care. I'm sure Finnick and some of the guys will wind up at my house anyway."

"Only if you want me to," she says, pursing her lips at him. Her grey eyes widen slightly as she awaits his answer. "I don't want to intrude if it's a guys' night."

"Of course I want you to." He pauses. "Why wouldn't I want you to? You're the one who doesn't always want to hang out."

"I want to," she replies, climbing off the stool. "I'll be there when I get done at work."

* * *

Rye's idea of a few people, for once, really is just that. Normally when his brother throws a party, half the town winds up at the Mellarks' house, but it's probably not a bad thing that his brother chose a college a few hundred miles away. Most of the guys and the few girls that show up are all friends of his from high school that are back in Panem for the summer. The rest of the crowd consists of Peeta's friends.

By seven o'clock, the music is thumping and everyone is milling about the Mellarks' backyard. Through the kitchen window from where Peeta fills pitchers of water for the beer pong table, he sees Finnick and Annie fooling around in the shallow end of the swimming pool, far away from the volleyball game that Brutus, Thresh, Marvel and Thom have going on in the deep end. Rye and his friends are gathered around the Ping-Pong table, arranging the red Solo cups into the standard ten-cup pyramid. Two guys that Peeta vaguely remembers were second-string on the football team before they graduated haul the ladder golf game into the middle of the yard and wheedle two girls into playing with them.

He sighs and shuts off the faucet, and with a pitcher in each hand, he heads out to the patio and hands them off to Rye, then tugs off his shirt and sits down near the hot tub that's build into corner of the far side of the shallow end. The gentle splash of his feet entering the water causes Finnick to remove his lips from Annie's neck and they both look up at Peeta, Annie's cheeks a faint pink.

"You gonna partner up with me for pong?" Peeta asks Finnick, swinging his legs lazily. Finnick and Annie exchange a look.

"Annie kind of wants to play tonight," Finnick replies. "That okay, bro?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." He nods, and then his eyes catch sight of a leggy brunette in a red bikini watching him from where she stands at the edge of the patio. She quirks her lips up at him in a smile, and Peeta gives her a small one in return, trying to remember the girl's name. She was a cheerleader, and for some reason, he's pretty sure she was one of Rye's conquests a few years back.

"Katniss is working tonight? That sucks," Annie pipes up, drawing Peeta's attention away from the brunette.

"Ah, yeah. She'll be here later."

"And then you'll run the table for the rest of the night," Finnick winks, a knowing gleam in his eye. Peeta laughs; Katniss's prowess at beer pong is infamous. Her aim is ridiculously accurate, and she never fails to sink the last shot. Several of Rye's friends flat out refuse to play with her.

"I'll need a partner before then though," Peeta sighs.

"That girl over there is watching you." Annie motions to the same brunette. She leans down and pecks Finnick on the lips quickly. "I'm going to the restroom. Be right back." Finnick peeks over his shoulder where Annie had pointed and groans.

"Stay the fuck away from that one, Peet. I know you're all anxious to get your dick wet and lose your V-card, but Audra Housley is not where you start. She's been with half the guys here."

Peeta raises an eyebrow at his friend. Finnick chuckles and lowers his head shamefully. "Yeah, fuck you. It was before I even met Annie. My freshman year. You know, when the rest of you guys were still in diapers." He glances back at Audra again. "You can do better, Peet. Nearly every girl in your class wants you—and some of these college chicks too. You can be choosier with who you initiate your dick with."

He remains quiet, his fingers tracing over the concrete of the patio, his mind honing in on the memory of his night with Katniss, her tight walls seizing at his cock, and he suppresses a smile. His dick only wants one girl.

Annie returns a few moments later with a Corona in each hand, offering the first one to Peeta, which he accepts with a grateful smile. Finnick grins at his girlfriend and kisses her soundly as she settles in his lap on the pool stairs again. Peeta's momentary bliss recalling his sex with Katniss dissipates as he tries not to watch them making out. A different emotion stirs in his chest: jealousy. He thanks Annie for the beer again and wanders over to the patio to take in the beer pong match.

"Hi." He hears a breathy voice in his right ear and finds Audra at his side, giving him a sultry smile.

"Hey," he replies, taking a pull off his Corona.

The smile curves up more. "You're Rye's brother, hmm?" Duh. He nods and sips at the beer more. She purses her lips and squeezes his bicep suggestively. "You look like you might be stronger than him."

"I, uh, play football and I wrestle."

"You work out a lot, huh?" She bats her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.

"Yeah," he replies absently. Her brazenness is off-putting, and he's definitely not interested in her. He manages to evade her by jumping into the next beer pong game with Brutus as a partner. They play a couple games throughout the night but don't win any of them, and after a brief swim to cool off, he dashes upstairs to change out of his wet swimsuit and redresses in a t-shirt and cargo shorts.

He's lingering by the pool just before eleven when he feels a bump at his hip and turns to see Katniss grinning at him. "Hey you," she smiles. He smiles back and when he takes a second glance at her, he notices that instead of her usual tank top and shorts, she's wearing a little blue sundress and her hair is down. His cock stirs and he fights the image of her naked that always comes to mind now that he's _seen_ her naked. It's like permanent fucking X-ray vision. "You, um, look nice."

She grins again. "Thanks. This is cooler than anything else I own. I figured Rye would have the beer pong set up outside instead of the basement and I really didn't want to be digging my shorts out of my ass for the night. You ready to dominate with me?" She grabs his hand unceremoniously and leads him over to the table to await the end of the current game.

And dominate she does. Some of the games are closer than usual, though, so by their sixth win, she's starting to sway a little when she lines up her shots, and thanks to his head start, Peeta knows he's on the brink of being drunk. When she arcs the ball through the air and it lands with a splash in the last cup for their seventh victory, she squeals and spins around and launches herself into his arms. He stumbles a little but the feel of her breasts beneath the dress's thin fabric is so delicious that he has to hug her back and press her tighter to him.

Eventually the party breaks up, and most of Rye's friends leave with their respective designated drivers. Annie generously offers to drive Finnick and the others—including Rye, but excluding Marvel who passed out and was towed inside by Finnick an hour ago—to a nearby diner. Thom protests that they should just get White Castle, but he's outvoted.

Katniss places a hand on Peeta's shoulder and rises up on her tiptoes, her breath hot on the shell of his ear. "Let's stay here. I want to swim," she slurs a little, her tongue tripping on the Ss. She gives him a pointed look and as usual, he can't say no to her.

"We're, ah, going to stay here," he calls. He considers for a moment that it looks awfully suspicious that they're staying behind alone—together—so he adds quickly, "Katniss got here late and didn't get to go in the pool. We'll keep an eye on Marvel." Annie nods and leads the rowdy group out to her mother's Suburban.

Katniss hesitates beside him until the engine revs and the sound of the tires indicates they're gone. "I didn't bring my bathing suit," she says softly, lifting her eyes at him, and he can't place her tone. Is it regret in her voice? It doesn't sound seductive; at least he doesn't think so. But he also doesn't want to misread any signs that aren't there. "If I go in the hot tub in my underwear, do you care?" she asks.

"I thought you wanted to swim," he returns. "It's too freaking hot for the hot tub."

She shrugs. "My manager had me sweeping the theaters tonight. I figure the bubbles will feel good on my back cause it's fucking killing me."

"Suit yourself," he replies, walking towards the panel where the controls are and punching the button to bring the Jacuzzi to life. When he turns to go back towards the pool, her dress is sliding past her hips and he drinks in the vision of her in a cream-colored lacy bra and matching panties—a far cry from the simple cotton underwear she was wearing on the night they slept together. She gives him a modest smile, winds her hair into a messy knot, securing it with an elastic, and walks towards the hot tub.

"Oh my god, this feels so good," she moans, sliding down into the bubbling water. Her eyes flutter shut and she bites her lip as she settles back against the side. Peeta sits down on a nearby lounge chair and studies her face in the moonlight. How does she not know how beautiful she is?

The swirling water keeps her body from his prying eyes, which is probably a good thing because he knows her bra and panties are likely transparent and he can't handle the implications of her being nearly naked in front of him again—not with the cloud of their sexual encounter hovering over him. His overactive imagination causes him enough angst.

"Peeta?" He glances over at her again and she gives him a sweet smile. "Aren't you coming in?" The slow cadence to her speech tells him she's definitely feeling the effects of the beer by now, and her tenuous inebriated state only makes things more dangerous.

But then she gives him a plaintive look and pouts and as she shifts in the water her breasts bob above the surface and yes, he was right—the bra is virtually see through now and fuck, the sight of her dark little nipples against the wet fabric is a bolt of lightning to his groin and before he can register any more logic he's pulling off his shirt and unbuckling his belt to step out of his shorts and stepping into the hot tub in his blatantly tented boxer-briefs, sending a cascade of water into the swimming pool below.

"Shit it's hot," he hisses, easing down into the water. He takes a seat on the built-in bench across from her, and she pouts at him again.

"What, do I have cooties? Are we eight-years-old, Peeta? Come sit by me. Pleeeeeeease?"

He groans inwardly and reaches down to inconspicuously adjust his erection before he shuffles along the ledge and comes to a stop beside her. The steam has curled a few stray tendrils of her hair and raised a flush on her cheeks, and beads of sweat stipple her brows and one slips down her temple as she rewards him with a hazy smile, whether from the heat or her slight tipsiness.

"It's 90 degrees outside and we're in a goddamn hot tub. What is wrong with us?" he laughs softly.

"It feels good," she repeats, licking her lips as a drop of sweat slides down her nose. "Tonight was fun. I'm sorry I had to work and couldn't be here longer. We haven't hung out much since school got out," she murmurs, inching towards him. "I kind of thought you've been avoiding me."

"What?" he stammers. _Fuck._ Has he been that obvious?

"I mean…" She licks her lips again and brushes a lock of damp hair out of her eyes, but it falls back down immediately. Instinctively, he reaches out and deliberately tucks it behind her ear. Her breath catches and when she meets his eyes, the hungry look in her dark grey irises makes him struggle to draw his own breath. The pregnant pause before she begins to close in on him gives his reeling head a split second to comprehend that she is about to kiss him. He draws back and her head snaps up.

"What are you doing?"

She wrinkles her nose and another bead of sweat drips from the tip. "Kissing you. Duh."

"Why?" he asks suspiciously.

"Because we're in alone in a hot tub?" She snorts softly. "I don't know. Why do I need a reason to kiss you, Peeta?"

He swallows thickly and weighs the question. He can think of a thousand reasons why she should kiss him, but the only one that keeps pulsing at his gut is the reason why she _shouldn't_ kiss him.

"I…" His tongue suddenly feels like lead and he fumbles at how to breech his insecurity with what she said when they were in her bed nearly a month ago. "Katniss." He tries again, and she places a hand on his shoulder.

"Peeta, what? What's wrong?" She's still slurring her words slightly, but the concern in her voice is obvious.

Taking a deep breath, he steels his nerves. "It's, uh, about what happened a few weeks ago. When we…"

"Had sex?" she replies automatically. "What about it, Peeta?"

He looks at her quizzically. How can she be so blasé about what they did? "We're never going to talk about it?"

She sighs and tugs at another loose wave at the nape of her neck. "Why do we need to talk about it?" she asks quietly.

"Um, maybe because we had sex, Katniss? And usually that's a pretty fucking big thing to people? Especially the first time." He digs his fingers into the flesh above his knees to release some of the exasperation he feels towards her at the moment.

"It was a big thing," she murmurs. "Why would you think it wasn't?"

"Maybe because you haven't said two fucking words about it since we did it?" he yells. The beer buzzing in him fuels his bravado, and the crack in the dam of frustration building in him bursts open. "Maybe because when I asked you how you felt right after we did it all you said was that you were glad to, and I quote, 'get it over with'?"

Even in the dim moonlight he can see the subtle change in the color of her cheeks and the imperceptible flare of her nostrils that he knows is the first sign she's fighting back tears. Her nose twitches and she blinks rapidly, mumbling something so garbled that he has to ask her to speak louder, the burbling of the Jacuzzi drowning her out.

"Is that what you think I meant?" He drops his eyes and curses himself for the nausea cresting in his stomach. "Oh my god, Peeta," she whispers, scrambling into his lap and linking her arms around his neck. His treacherous body responds immediately so he looks everywhere but into those silver orbs he knows are boring into him. "God, I didn't mean it like that. Shit." She tugs on the back of his neck. "Look at me!" she urges. "Please."

When he does, she leans down and places a soft kiss on his lips. "I never meant it that way. I swear. You know I'm no good with words. I only meant I was glad to get the first time over with…cause it hurt and…maybe that's only cause you're so big but…" She takes a shuddering breath. "You were good, Peeta…so good. You're so good to _me. _You always are. You're the _best_ best friend anyone could have." She doesn't wait for him to respond before he feels the pressure of her mouth on his and she scoots further into his lap, the thin fabric of their wet underwear no barrier for how incredible it feels when she rocks along his cock as she starts kissing him more feverishly. Her lips are hot and her mouth is sour like the Coronas they were drinking, but fuck, between the alcohol and the heat of the water and their bodies, he doesn't resist and he kisses her back.

Her nails rake through his damp hair and his hands climb her spine, splaying over the clasp of her bra where they settle, toying with it but making no move to undo it. Katniss moans and swirls her tongue at the seam of his lips as she continues to glide back and forth on him. The feel of her is more intoxicating than the beer in his bloodstream and his head swims, dizzy from her ministrations.

Katniss's hands wander to his shoulders, kneading the muscles and he moans in appreciation, clutching her tighter. Her hips circle frantically and the ebb and flow of the sensation in his balls has him approaching that familiar release, but it remains out of reach even as she increases the speed of her thrusts against his shaft.

"You can touch me you know," she says thickly. "If you want."

He groans and slides a hand around to pluck at one nipple, prompting a strangled cry from Katniss as she arcs into his touch. He teases at the erect little nub before flattening his whole palm and squeezing the soft mound through the wet lace. Katniss cries louder and buries her face in the crook of his neck, sucking on his skin roughly. It flits through his mind that she's going to leave a mark but he's too far-gone to care.

He grabs for her other breast and starts kneading both with his palms and she suddenly freezes and starts to tremble beneath his hands, her rocking becoming slow spasms. She raises her hand and he sees her eyes are glassy and short puffs of air escape her swollen mouth. "Oh my…fuck…Peeta. That felt so…" She kisses him hard. "See, I told you I suck with words."

His eyes widen with comprehension—he just got her off. Her face relaxes and she smiles and covers his hands with hers, coaching him to start fondling her again. "We don't have to stop," she whispers, and he sees the shyness creep into her eyes. "I, um, I can…I mean can I…can I make you feel good? I…" Her stammering is cute and he's even more turned on from her offer, but he's not sure how to explain to her that he's not sure he can come after having all those beers. He's never gone farther than making out and feeling up girls when he's drunk before, and the few times he's tried to jerk off in that condition he's given up or passed out—he's never sure which.

But Katniss's gaze is so intense as she climbs off his lap and nudges him to stand so she can pull down his soaked underwear. She stares at his cock, licking her lips in anticipation, and glances up at him. "Do you—ah–want to stand, or...how should I—" He looks down at the ledge of the pool and frowns.

"It's going to hurt your knees if you sit like that," he says, and she just shrugs.

"Don't care…whatever is best for you." His eyes close automatically as he feels the first flick of her tongue over the tip of his cock, teasing at the slit where he's sure he's already leaking pre-cum. She emits a little moan, her breath tickling the sensitive skin and he lifts his eyelids a little to watch her. She looks up at him, eyes smoky as she runs her tongue up his shaft, licking the ridge of the head, swirling her tongue around and around before she inhales, and then he's in her mouth. Holy fuck, it's such an indescribable feeling that he can't keep his eyes open and he struggles not to buck his hips and thrust himself down her throat.

His head buzzes and his pulse leaps as she starts to suckle him earnestly without hesitation. Her thumb rubs idly at his sac while she bobs up and down and he fists his hands through her hair, grunting softly. His legs wobble and she pauses, his cock slipping from her lips. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck yes," he gasps. "I'm fine. Keep going."

She nods and takes him into her mouth again, her hands wrapping around his legs to grip him just below his ass. He feels guilty for thinking for even a second that she's far too good at this for someone who's never done it before—though he's ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure she hasn't. She only gags once or twice, and as she hollows her cheeks and starts using her tongue and her mouth in tandem, he's shocked to feel the tightening in his balls and the sharp tingle that tells him he's about to come. "Katniss," he warns, his voice raw. "I'm—uhn—fuck, you're gonna have to move." She releases him just as he turns and the first jet of semen hits the pavement behind the hot tub. A steady groan leaps from his throat as his cock empties, and his chest deflates. He frowns at the mess on the patio and knows he'll have to get the garden hose to wash away the evidence in the morning. But fuck, he could get struck by lightning right now and he'd die a happy man.

Katniss sits quietly on the edge of the hot tub, the night air puckering her nipples against her wet bra, and he wants to peel away the last shreds of clothing and slide into her, but he's lucky he even got off once in his condition, and he's not sure Katniss would even want to have sex with him again. Didn't she just say it hurt? She's hardly a wuss; when they were nine, he had watched her fall out of a tree—the branch had bowed and snapped when she inched along it, attempting to wrench free a Frisbee Prim had launched and gotten stuck—and Katniss hadn't even cried when she landed on her right arm and fractured it in two places. Pain is something she generally copes with well. Maybe she's scared of _him_—the thought is mortifying.

He sees her mouth gape open in a yawn and her eyes slip closed, her head lolling to the side before she jerks upright and gives him a sheepish smile. "I guess I'm tired."

"Yeah, it's probably almost three by now." He glances down at his wet underwear on the ground and his now-flaccid cock dangling between his legs; he's going to have to go upstairs naked because he hadn't given a thought to towels once she started undressing. Katniss stands up and steps out of the hot tub, shivering violently as she does. His eyes are drawn to her breasts again, and the quiet chattering of her teeth causes them to jiggle almost hypnotically. He holds out his arms and she walks into them, her quaking subsiding as he rubs her back. "You can't drive home," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. She nods against his chest. "Come upstairs. Stay with me."

He leads her inside, both of them trailing water along the tiled hallway and he holds on to her as they stumble up the steps into his bedroom. Closing the door with a soft click, he steps into the bathroom and grabs two towels, but when he turns, he finds her unhooking her bra. His jaw clenches and his dick twitches as she slides the garment off and exposes her breasts to him. But then she opens his dresser and pulls out one of his t-shirts and slips it over her head before reaching under the hem—which hits mid-thigh on her petite stature—and her wet panties join the bra on the floor. She gives him a weak smile and accepts one towel, rubbing it roughly over her damp hair then flails herself down on his bed, burying her face in the pillow.

After drying off, he grabs a clean pair of boxer-briefs from the top drawer and decides to forgo his sleep shorts, climbing in bed beside her. She shifts and tucks her head underneath his chin, her fingers toying with the fine hairs on his chest before she lays her palm flat against his rapidly thumping heart.

"Night, Peeta," she whispers, and her voice catches and he thinks she might continue but her quiet snores escape her nose and mouth moments later and he doesn't remember much else after that.

* * *

_**Thank you again for the love that you continue to show this story and me in general. The reviews, follows and favorites are so encouraging, and the PMs that many of you exchange with me mean the world. **_

_**Thanks for reading. ~C~**_


	6. Chapter 5-You Don't Have to Worry

_**Author's Note-**Thank you so much for the wonderful response you continue to show this story; your reviews and PMs mean the world to me. Many additional thanks for all the well wishes I received for my bday. And even more thanks to the lovely ladies who wrote me gifts this weekend (ILoveRynMar, streetlightlove, Pookieh, Baroness Kika, and angylinni, and IzzySamson...all wonderful works of art, sigh, I am so lucky!)  
_

_Thanks to RynMar, Street and Pookieh for their prereading and help with this chapter. And thanks to Megsonfire/Baroness Kika and Street for inspiring Everlark's Halloween costumes. They all know why. :)_

_Finally...I am super excited for Kika's new WIP All the President's Men. Please check out her prologue and be prepared to swoon over President!Peeta. This story is so unique and will NOT disappoint. _

* * *

"_You Don't Have to Worry…_

_~Now~  
(26 years old)_

* * *

When Peeta finally finishes grading his papers, Katniss has his laundry all folded, and she's nodded off on his couch again. It's quarter to seven and he's starving, but he really doesn't want to ask her to join him for dinner, as petty as that is. He kind of feels like being alone with his thoughts and a few episodes of _The Walking Dead_ and calling it an early evening. He's had enough of the domestic act for today—now that he's had time to let his emotions fester, he's back to being more resentful than anything else.

He shoves his papers into his bag and after he updates his grade book, he closes his laptop and pads into the living room to linger by the couch and listen to Katniss breathe. Her face is twisted and tiny whimpers escape her lips. He furrows his brows and kneels down, brushing her matted hair off her forehead. "Katniss," he whispers soothingly. She starts to thrash wildly and flails her arm out, smacking him hard across his left shoulder with the back of her palm. "Katniss!" he says more insistently. "Wake up."

Her eyes open, raw panic unmistakable in the mercury orbs. She sits up and looks around, gasping, and when she seems to comprehend where she is, her breathing commences to even out and her face relaxes. "Peeta," she murmurs plaintively.

He simply reaches for her hand and rubs it reassuringly. "I'm here." But his curiosity gets the better of her. "What were you dreaming about?" he asks gently.

Her lips press into such a tight line they fade to white, and she looks away. "Nothing." She scoots off the couch and scans the room, grabbing her still-tangled bra where he dropped it. "Nothing," she echoes. "I, um…I should go. I know you like to relax on Sunday nights."

The sudden change in her demeanor both alarms and annoys him. "Katniss, talk to me." He takes a step towards her, and she folds her arms across her chest, her lip quivering. "What had you so upset just now? What were you dreaming about?" he asks again while his mind flashes back vaguely to that night just before prom when she came to his window, begging him to hold her so she could get some sleep. He recalls that her nightmares as a teenager always seemed to involve her father. But it's been years since she has dared to mention him in Peeta's presence. Something else has to be bothering her.

"I don't want to talk about it," she replies sullenly, her grey eyes suddenly steely.

He sighs. Typical. "You never want to talk about things." The words slip out unintentionally, but it's enough to cause her nostrils to twitch.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snaps. "We talk all the time, Peeta. We tell each other everything."

"Oh do we?" His tone is accusatory. Finnick's plea surges through his mind, but he can't resist getting a few other things off his chest. "You mean like you told me how you went out with Brutus last Tuesday?"

Her eyes flicker and he sees her spine straighten. "He told you," she says flatly.

"Well you sure didn't." He scratches absently at his arm when she remains silent. "You're free to date whoever the fuck you want, Katniss, but I'd appreciate the courtesy of a warning if you plan on giving Cato a whirl in the future too."

The flicker in her eyes sparks to a conflagration. "That's low, Peeta." And he knows it is. But the strange catharsis in his veins at this moment fuels him. God help him—it felt a little good to sting her like that. She exhales a long breath. "Doesn't it count for anything that I came to your bed after my date that night?"

He laughs sardonically. "That's supposed to make me feel better? That I got a pity fuck after Brutus wined and dined you?"

She bristles and her throat bobs as she swallows. "It…the date…it didn't mean anything to me. I only agreed to go out with him because for the last year, he's been asking me out and I've been putting him off. I figured this might finally get him off my back."

"He's been after you for a fucking year?" Okay, now his blood simmers; he thinks of the countless times he's hung out with his friends in the span of twelve months—plenty of opportunity for Brutus to casually mention he had been pursuing Katniss.

And then he stops—is it fair of him to think any of his friends would assume he has some kind of territorial claim on Katniss, even when they've harassed him mercilessly over it for years? As much as it gnaws at him, he reluctantly admits that Brutus owed him no such courtesy.

Katniss chews on her lip and nods. "And…I…uh, didn't tell you because I know he's your friend and I didn't want to cause any trouble between you. I kind of just assumed he'd give up." She shakes her head. "He's persistent."

When her lips press together again, he can tell there's something else she's not telling him. "Katniss, you really should have told me. I could have said something to get him to leave you alone."

"Kind of hard to say no to a big burly cop, Peeta, friend or no friend. He's always coming into the trailer, hanging around my cubicle when his shift ends." She sighs loudly. "And besides what would you have said without having to tell him about us?"

Us. One word. Two letters that have been complicating his life and tormenting him for years. "What about us, Katniss?" he asks bluntly. "There is no us." Goddammit. Fucking promises. She just gave him the perfect segue to lay it all bare, throw all their issues on the table, but his moral code and his loyalty to Finnick has to let the pregnant moment pass without another word. He knows she won't press the issue. Why start now?

Her nostrils flare and she lowers her eyes. "Well you don't have to worry about Brutus. Like I told you, it was a terrible date. I really can't see why you guys are even friends with him. He's not particularly nice and he's arrogant." She meets his eyes again and the wide silver pools swim with regret. She coughs softly and toys with the bra in her hands. "Are you coming to Prim's graduation with me on Thursday? She's been…harassing me about the fourth ticket."

He exhales and rubs his thumb over his jaw. "No, Katniss. I don't think so."

Her face falls, and he can swear he sees a flicker of panic claim her eyes again. He feels a fleeting stab of guilt. "Why not?" Her restrained plea is discernible to his ears.

"I just…" He closes his eyes. "It's not the place for me. Let Hazelle go with you and your mom and Rory. It's a family thing. Hazelle is going to be Prim's mother-in-law soon. I'm sure she'll love to go."

Katniss stares at him, her lips pressed into another tight line, white against her olive skin. Her upper body quakes when she releases a long breath. "You're practically family too, Peeta."

Practically. But not. He's not her boyfriend. Best friends and boyfriends are mutually exclusive in the realm of Katniss Everdeen. "It's just not a good time to take off work. There are only a few weeks left and—"

"Okay, I get it," she says curtly. "You don't want to go. Fine. But you don't need to make up excuses." She grabs her bag and shoves the bra in it. "I'll talk to you later. Enjoy your _Dexter _or _Mad Men_ or whatever the hell it is that you watch on Sunday nights." Her hair whips behind her in a fan of black as she stomps towards his door and slams it behind her, raising a little gust of air that's enough to scatter a few papers and envelopes off the table. Exasperatedly, he crosses to them and gathers them to shuffle through them: mostly bills, one embossed envelope—shit, not another wedding invitation, he wonders, who this time? —and a flier for a new Chinese restaurant. His mail from yesterday, no doubt retrieved for him by her.

He flops down on the couch, pulling the ottoman over when his eyes land on a small blue rectangle on the floor where the footstool had been. Squinting at it, he reaches down and picks it up. It's a flash drive, and it resembles the ones that he uses to store his grade books and progress reports and recommendations when he's forced to work on the school PCs. This one lacks the neatly lettered P. MELLARK that he carefully pens on the plastic to ensure they make it back to him if lost at school. But it has to be one of his because no one else has been in his apartment but Katniss.

_Katniss._ Her clothes had been on the chair above the ottoman when he had walked in and she had been naked on his couch. What could she be carrying around a flash drive for?

His curiosity niggles at him so he heads back to the dining room table where he boots up his MacBook and pops the flash drive into it. With a few clicks, he brings up a folder that unmistakably belongs to Katniss. His eyes settle on a file named _"K.E. Resume."_ Resisting the impulse to open it—or any of the other files on the drive—he closes the laptop and removes Katniss's flash drive. He would never ever pry into her personal things no matter how inquisitive he may be.

Reaching for his phone, he taps her name, waiting for her to pick up. It rings and rings and rings and eventually goes to her voice mail. Sighing, he disconnects without leaving a message. They almost never leave each other messages; seeing the 'missed call' alert has always sufficed.

He decides to settle back on the couch and watch the latest episode of _Dexter_; he had actually forgotten it was on until Katniss snarled at him. A bitter smile crosses his lips; she really does know him better than anyone.

But about twenty minutes into the show, the mystery of the flash drive starts to needle at him once more. He hits pause on the DVR and tries Katniss again. This time, she answers after three rings.

Her tone is clipped. "What?"

"Hi to you, too," he replies sarcastically. "You didn't answer before and so—"

"I was in the shower, Peeta. I don't take my phone in there."

"Okay, well, I just thought you should know you left a flash drive in my apartment. It must have fallen out of your shorts when you, ah, undressed yourself before I got home from Finnick's."

Silence prevails on her end. "Oh," she says quietly. "Okay, um, thanks. I'll have to throw on some clothes and come and get it."

"You've driven here in your pajamas before."

"I literally just stepped out of the shower, Peeta. I'm not even in my pajamas yet."

He immediately conjures an image of her standing in her tiny bathroom, a dark green towel wrapped around her dripping body. How many times has he run that towel over every inch of her wet, naked flesh after they've showered together? "It's not a big deal. I can bring it to you tomorr—"

"No," she interjects quickly. "I kind of need it. I'll just come get it." Before he can tell her that he'll leave the door unlocked, his phone goes mute. She's ended the call.

He pauses the DVR again when there's a knock on the door about fifteen minutes later, and he rises from the couch to open it for her.

"I left it unlocked," he says quietly as she jostles past him. He catches the familiar whiff of the coconut shampoo that she's been favoring lately wafting from her damp hair. She turns and he studies her carefully, her hair pulled back from her face in a neat braid and her face scrubbed clean of the little makeup she even wears. Every time he thinks he can't find Katniss more beautiful, he's reminded of how lovely she is at her most natural.

Several moments of silence pass between them when he moves to retrieve the flash drive, and he places it in her palm.

"Thanks," she replies, shoving it into the pocket of her denim cut-offs as she moves to walk back towards the door.

"I was kind of surprised to find it here," he adds. "You don't exactly carry those around in your pocket all the time. Any reason why you had it with you?"

She hesitates, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "I, um…well, my résumé is on there. I was going to ask you to take a look at it, but I changed my mind."

"I'll look at it," he offers. "I'd be happy to. Why didn't you ask me earlier?"

"I changed my mind," she repeats. "You had schoolwork to do and more important things to worry about…and it's not like there's anything you can do to make it look any better. It's kind of…meager, I guess…and…" She trails off, and the self-defeat in her voice breaks his heart. "Thanks, Peeta." She walks back towards the door.

He places his hand atop hers on the doorknob. "Katniss, I wish you'd stop worrying. You're not going to lose your job. The town council threatens to cut the parks department every year, and they haven't done it yet." He reaches for the end of her braid with his other hand and slides his fingers along the wet plaited hair. "And even if they did, I'm sure your résumé looks fine." Her eyes lift briefly, but her lips twist downward.

"I should go."

In spite of knowing better—didn't he just convince himself to stay away from her?—he cups her cheek and rubs his thumb soothingly along her jawbone. "Why don't you stay here with me tonight?" He nuzzles her nose and waits for her to respond to his gentle machinations.

But her grey eyes are listless as she shakes her head. "You don't need me bringing you down tonight. You need to get a good night's sleep after the weekend you had, and I'll just keep you up."

He sighs, exasperated. "Katniss, we don't have to have sex every time you're in my bed."

She smiles sadly. "That's not what I meant. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Peeta. Sweet dreams." Without another word, she opens the door and he watches her approach the stairwell and disappear from view.

* * *

As it would have it, there are no sweet dreams for him. When the alarm sounds the next morning, it's after a restless night's sleep. Peeta awoke several times throughout the night and early morning, once bathed in a cold sweat and once breathing so heavily he could have sworn he was having a panic attack. But this morning he can't recall the cause for either episode; he can't recall anything actually. He wonders if Katniss slept any better. He knows for a fact _he'd _have slept more soundly with her in his arms.

Mondays usually mean staff meetings after school, but the English supervisor has taken pity on him and the other members of the department this late in the year and given them the hour as additional 'office hours.' It's a relief, and it also lets him meet Annie for their usual Monday lunch hour without much remorse over how much is on his plate this week.

"You're so lucky," Annie grumbles when Peeta tells her his afternoon meeting has been effectively canceled. He closes the door to her office and sets the large bag down on the little table opposite her desk. "I guarantee I'll be stuck here til four because _my _supervisor doesn't know when to shut up." She opens the bag and grins as she pulls out the salads. "God I love having a friend who can cook."

He smiles wryly as he pulls out two wrapped sandwiches. "Putting some turkey and cranberry chutney on bread and throwing lettuce in a bowl with some vegetables and dressing is hardly cooking, Annie."

"Still…" She moans as she bites into her sandwich. "I swear Finnick doesn't even try because he knows you spoil me."

As is the case every Monday, they chat easily, both making a concerted effort to keep the conversation from veering into work territory. Annie playfully pries for a few details about the bachelor party, and Peeta can't help but let on about the special strippers he had obtained for Finnick.

Annie blushes and shakes her head. "I guess I should be flattered that he still remembers that night so well?"

Peeta laughs and spears a cherry tomato from his salad. "Do you ever forget your first time with someone—especially the woman you're going to marry?"

"Guess not," she admits, ducking her head again. He grins. Annie has never been one to discuss her and Finnick's sex life, and she's never pried about his. "And Finnick behaved?"

"It was all 'look and no touch,' Ann, no worries."

"I know; I trust him. It's the rest of your crew that concerns me. So, um…" Annie clears her throat. "You saw Katniss yesterday when you got home, right?"

He places down his fork. Her choice of words is highly ironic, given just how much of Katniss he saw when he entered his apartment. "Yeah, why?"

Annie chews on her lower lip, poking at the Romaine in her Tupperware container. "Oh, she was just a little off when she got home last night, and then she ran back out—"

"Yeah, she left her flash drive at my place." He conveniently leaves out how the flash drive wound up on the floor but fills Annie in about how he had offered to bring it to Katniss and that she had refused.

"Well, when she came back the second time she went right to bed." She pauses and gives Peeta a sad smile. "But she…I think she was crying in her room when she got back from your place the first time."

He knits his brows and frowns. "Crying? Katniss?"

"Right?" Annie agrees. "And when she got home the second time—I guess after she went back to your apartment for her flash drive—I tried again to get her to chat, but she said she was tired. But I don't think she slept much. She was calling out in her room for a while."

His stomach churns. "She was having another nightmare?"

Annie nods. "Did…ah…something happen…between you guys, maybe?" she asks hesitantly. "Finnick told me that he talked to you…."

His stomach turns again and his appetite withers. But he sees the worry and uncertainty muddled in Annie's green eyes. "No, I didn't talk to her about where she and I stand, Annie. I promised Finn. Not before your wedding. It can't be that. I, uh, told her that I wasn't going to Prim's graduation with her." He coughs. "But I didn't think she'd be that upset about it. It's not like it's her graduation or anything."

Annie purses her lips thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, she had been talking to Prim on the phone yesterday morning, and she was really upset when she hung up. She wouldn't talk about it."

"Katniss was upset?" he affirms. She nods. "With Prim?"

"I don't know. Like I said, she wouldn't say."

"She never gets mad at Prim," he hedges. It's true; Katniss's little sister can do no wrong in her eyes, even when Peeta has found a few times that Prim takes advantage of Katniss's doting on her.

"Well she was gone before I woke up this morning so I couldn't try a third time to get it out of her."

He rounds his eyes. "She never gets up before you. Not even when she goes for a run."

Annie shrugs and sighs. "Something's been off with her for a few weeks now, Peet. At first I thought maybe it was just me moving out and the wedding stuff. But she's been nothing but supportive about that and even helped me box up more stuff Saturday. I don't know." She rubs her temples and sits back.

"I know she's a little stressed about her job," he suggests.

Annie heaves another sigh. "Yeah, she's so overqualified for that shitty position, and I wish she'd stop worrying about budget cuts. It'd be a blessing in disguise if they let her go. Then maybe she'd find something that makes her happy."

"Something, not someone," he replies a little too quickly, and Annie lifts a dark brow at him.

"Peet, Finnick is right. It's time you guys put stop to the whole 'friends-with-benefits' thing. It's unhealthy and you both need more emotionally from a relationship. You deserve more. And your friendship shouldn't suffer because neither of you will make a move to push this thing forward or end it once and for all. I mean, what's been holding you back? Are you scared you're going to lose her as a friend if she still doesn't want to commit to you?'

"That's the thing, Annie," he says soberly. "I think no matter what I do, I'm going to lose her."

* * *

After the last bell of the school day rings, Peeta spends sixty minutes idling in his classroom, making himself available to students who need him for anything from extra help for their impending finals to help with choosing classes before they make appointments with Annie and the other counselors for next year's classes. His office hours are generally filled with kids coming and going but to his surprise, only two students stop by: one for advice on the benefit of AP Lit versus Honors, and one for help with her paper on Romantic poetry.

At ten minutes past three—five minutes before he should be able to leave, one of his seniors—a pretty little blonde that always reminds him of Primrose Everdeen—rushes in through the classroom door, breathing heavily, her green eyes wide. "Oh good, you're still here, Mr. Mellark!"

"Yes, Whitney, I am. Five more minutes," he smiles kindly.

"Oh, cause Mr. Wallace was already gone," she explains, rifling through her Vera Bradley bag until she produces a paper that she thrusts at him. Peeta accepts the paper and scans it, noticing it's an application for employment at the movie theater where Rye and Katniss used to work, and he can't contain the wry smile that tugs at his lips.

"So you were going to ask Mr. Wallace for a recommendation first?" he teases gently as he sees a flush of pink tint her cheeks.

"I need two. His classroom was closer."

"My brother and—" He catches himself and continues, using the only phrase he ever gets to attribute to Katniss. " —my best friend used to work at the movie theater when I was your age. Same one, in fact." He carefully reads the directions and begins to pen the short required narrative.

"Yeah, the restaurant I hostessed at last summer closed and I need something until I leave for USC. Oh, is that your girlfriend next to you?" the girl asks, motioning to a picture beside his computer. Peeta glances up where she is pointing. "Um, sorry, I totally don't mean to pry, Mr. Mellark! But she's really pretty. You look so cute together."

"No, not my girlfriend," he replies quietly. The photo is one that he chose carefully, taken at Finnick's college graduation party. It would invite suspicion to have a picture of Katniss alone or just two of them together on his desk, so he settles for one where Katniss is standing in front of him, his arms around her waist, her one arm thrown up loosely around his neck. All of his friends are squashed together in the photo so their closeness isn't shady. He likes to remember how when the party broke up that night, he and Katniss had driven to the reservoir and had sex in the back of his car.

"Do you have a girlfriend then?" she asks then claps her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry! I'm not usually so nosy."

He smiles wryly and signs his name with a flourish, dates the paper and hands it back to her. "It's okay. No, no girlfriend at the moment." The pang that seizes at him never gets any less pronounced when he has to deny what his heart has wanted for so long.

The girl glances down at the paper and gives him a bright smile. "Thanks, Mr. Mellark. For everything," she adds. "You were my favorite teacher out of anyone here. I hope my college professors are all as awesome as you."

"That's sweet of you, thank you, Whitney. I'm sure you'll have great ones, and they'll be lucky to have such a hard worker in their classes. See you tomorrow."

He starts to gather his things and heads to the faculty room to change into his gym clothes, intending to head out to burn off some of the stress that the weekend accumulated in him. But once he arrives at the gym and begins working out, Annie's words prickle at his conscience. The entire time he's on the elliptical, he can't shake the image of Katniss thrashing in her sleep, crying out in distress.

Once he's showered and changed and he sits in his car, holding his cell phone while he debates calling Katniss to check on her or just sending a casual text to see how her day went. The text wins out, and he taps a short message, saying he hopes she had a good Monday and then he pauses. What else can he say without letting on what Annie shared with him at lunch? If he was going to ask her about how she slept, he should have done it first thing in the morning, and he feels a little guilty that he didn't do just that.

As he's staring at his phone, a new message alert appears at the top of his screen, and he stares contemplatively at the friendly message from an unknown number.

_(215) 342-5616: hey stranger. I hope you don't mind that I kind of went into your file to grab your cell phone #. Hope that's okay. :)_

He furrows his brows. File? Who would have a file on him? His doctor? There was a new, very attractive, young receptionist when he had his yearly physical a few weeks back. But he's pretty sure that's some kind of a breach of ethics whether it's flattering or not. He leaves the screen with the unfinished, unsent text message to Katniss and goes into the new message and enters a reply.

_Peeta: Maybe…who's this?_

* * *

_~Then~_

_Summer before Senior Year into Fall of Senior Year_

* * *

It's been twelve hours, thirteen minutes and forty-one, forty-two, forty-three seconds since Katniss gave him that blowjob in the hot tub, and Peeta swears he can still feel her warm, wet mouth on his cock. He's burned two trays of butter cookies in the last hour, and his father keeps giving him funny looks. It doesn't help that he's overtired from his lack of sleep and his head still pounds in spite of three Advil he washed down with a cup of black coffee about eight hours ago.

Katniss was groggy when he roused her right before he had to leave for the bakery. At first he suspected she didn't know where she was, but once she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and focused them on him, a peaceful smile stole across her lips and he held his breath as she reminded him her dress was still down by the hot tub. They both had tiptoed downstairs—it never ceased to amaze him how stealthily Katniss could move—and after grabbing her dress, she climbed into her car and drove home in his clothes without a word spoken about what had passed between them.

It was déjà vu of the worst kind. He can't explain the unsettled feeling in his gut that they're going to be right back to where they were after prom.

He's not going to see Katniss today. She had complained darkly a few days earlier that she and Prim were stuck going to some graduation barbeque for their mother's latest boyfriend's son, who had graduated from high school a few weeks ago. It was a three-hour drive to the guy's ex-wife's house. After Katniss had finished protesting that the whole fake domestic togetherness scene made her want to vomit, she had told him she would likely be stuck there til late. Her mother refused to let her drive separately.

Peeta is half asleep on the counter when the bell rings and his body jerks upright. "Sleeping on the job, Mellark? Late night?"

He glares at the impish twinkle in Finnick's turquoise eyes. "You know damn well it was."

Finnick grins and leans against the pastry display. "How was swimming with Kaaaaaatniss?"

"It was swimming," he replies dryly.

"She looked really cute in that sundress," Finnick goads, his lopsided smirk directed at Peeta. Peeta sighs.

"Yeah, she did. Where are you going with this, Finn?"

"I'm just busting your balls, Peet. What are you doing tomorrow night?'

Tomorrow is Monday. Other than another thrilling day of work at the bakery, he can't think of anything set in stone. "Uh, nothing, probably. Maybe hanging out with Katniss if she doesn't have to work."

Finnick leans forward conspiratorially. "Forget Katniss for a night. Annie has a friend who she wants you to meet. She's transferring to Panem from Capitol Heights in September. Annie wants a bunch of us to go to the movies, like kind of a casual group date. You know, make Bristel feel welcome and get to know some people before school starts again."

Peeta struggles to keep the frown off his face. He can't very well ask why Katniss can't come without looking obvious, and he has no desire to get into his feelings for his best friend with Finnick. And he can't suggest they go somewhere _other_ than the movies—like miniature golf or bowling or _anything, _in case Katniss is working—for the same reason. Furthermore, he knows Katniss could be hurt if she's excluded from the outing, though most times she's pretty glib about socializing.

"Peet?" Finnick waves a hand in front of his face. "What do you say? I've seen her picture. She's fucking adorable."

"Puppies are adorable," Peeta retorts. "Teddy bears are adorable." _Katniss _is adorable especially when she's concentrating on something, like trying to beat a mission in _Grand Theft Auto _and the tip of her tongue just barely protrudes between those lips…lips that he really wishes that he could explore again…

"Wrong choice of words. She's cute. Like not drop-dead gorgeous, but she's really pretty. Come on, trust me!"

He sighs. Does he really have a choice?

One of the timers dings, indicating the trays of lemon poppy seed muffins are done. He tells Finnick to stay put, he'll be right back, but as he turns to retreat into the back, Finnick casts a suspicious look at him.

"What's that on your neck? Is that a fucking hickey, Mellark?" Finnick crows, and Peeta's fingers absently wander right to the spot where Katniss was sucking on his flesh last night in the hot tub as she glided back and forth in his lap. Shit. "Holy fuck it is! Who was going to town on you last night?"

"Ah…" He searches for a fast lie. "Some brunette. Think she's a junior. Not that Audra chick, don't worry." There. Not even a lie, really. He and Katniss aren't technically seniors 'til school starts in a month, right?

At that moment his phone pings and he finds a text message from Katniss. Between the oven and his phone, it's enough of a distraction to escape Finnick's grilling.

_Katniss: im in hell. Kill me now. _

He can't keep the sympathetic grin off his face as he fires back a reply on his way to the ovens.

_Peeta: I can't kill you. I'd miss you too much._

The second he hits send, he panics. Was that too telling? How the fuck is she going to take that? His skin crawls and suddenly feels too tight.

_Katniss: youd be the only one. The food sucks too. _

He'd smile at her typical concern for the fare being served, but the first part of her reply saddens him and erases any self-doubt he had about his answer. She probably didn't think twice about it.

Once the muffins are cooling on a rack and the next batches of blueberry are in and the timer is set, he returns to the front, tapping out another text telling her she can come by his house when she gets home—even if it's late—and he'll make her something. He's dismayed when he reads her next text and she says she has a dentist appointment at eight in the morning and should get some sleep.

"That Katniss?" Finnick asks knowingly.

A second subsequent text follows as Peeta nods.

_Katniss: besides I have to work tomorrow nite. ugh. _

Ugh. Yeah.

"She's working tomorrow night."

"Good." Finnick grins, but when Peeta glares at him, Finnick elaborates. "I mean don't take it the wrong way, Peet, but a girl would easily be threatened by Katniss. You guys are like fucking Siamese twins sometimes."

"Finn, I'm not agreeing to date this girl or anything, let's make that clear." He pauses. "Who else is going?"

"Oh, Marvel and Thresh and Thom and Delly and Annie and me. Brutus said he was working so he can't go. It's not a double date, Peeta. Relax. But if you and Bristel hit it off…" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Peeta sighs, relieved to hear that other than Finnick and Annie, there are no other couples going. He feels a bit more relaxed about things—maybe this Bristel girl won't even like blonds and she'll be more interested in Thom or Thresh.

* * *

The next night, Peeta arrives at the movie theater about ten minutes early, hoping to see Katniss and say hi before the rest of their friends show up. He's dismayed when he approaches the box office that she's not anywhere in sight. He recognizes Darius behind one of the booths, and glancing through the row of doors to peer inside, he can see his brother leaning on the concession counter, shamelessly flirting with a girl in a skimpy summer sundress.

Finnick's Range Rover veers through the parking lot a few moments later, screeching to a stop across two spaces. Peeta rolls his eyes; Finn is totally going to get a ticket for that sooner or later, but the parking lot is largely empty tonight. Annie climbs out of the passenger side, and the door behind her opens as well. He shifts on the balls of his feet, scuffing the sidewalk with the toe of his sandals as Finnick, Annie and Bristel walk towards him.

"Peeta!" Annie calls happily, waving animatedly as they reach him. He smiles wryly at Annie's enthusiasm, given how quiet and sedate she usually is.

"Hey guys." He greets Finnick and Annie and turns to give her friend a polite smile "Hi, I'm Peeta."

"Bristel, hi. I've heard a lot about you, Peeta."

Finnick wasn't exaggerating, but adorable was also not the right word. Bristel is pretty. Very pretty, actually, the kind of natural beauty that doesn't need a lot of makeup, though he can see she does wear it. She's average height, a bit taller than Annie, and she looks athletic, which makes sense if she's a swimmer like Annie. Her honey blonde hair falls straight past her shoulders, and her hazel eyes draw him in, and on closer inspection, he realizes her left eye is flecked with blue and her right eye has green accents.

"If you heard any of it from Finnick, none of it is true," he jokes, giving his friend a jab, and Finnick laughs. Bristel smiles, and deep dimples flank either side of her glossy pink mouth.

They make casual conversation while waiting for the others, and eventually everyone arrives and they head towards the box office to get their tickets. His palms start to sweat as they enter the lobby and he makes eye contact with his brother. Rye shoots him a playful sneer and motions to Bristel, making an overt obscene gesture. Peeta flips him off discreetly, but suddenly Katniss appears. She doesn't see him at first as she joins Rye behind the counter, but his brother clearly indicates Peeta and the rest of the group's presence because Katniss's eyes find his. But at the distance that separates them, any nuances in her expression are unreadable so he can't gauge her reaction.

"Girls, you want to go in and grab seats, or should we get snacks?" Finnick winds an arm around Annie's waist and waits for an answer.

"How about we go in and get seats and you get the popcorn and stuff? Oh, there's Katniss! Let's go say hi!"

Finnick reminds Annie gently that Katniss is at work, but Marvel declares that they can say hi and get their food if they get in Katniss's line. Peeta cringes and his feet are cinder blocks as he trudges towards the counter.

"Hi, guys," Katniss greets them, her eyes briefly darting to meet his. Annie eagerly introduces Bristel to Katniss, and Peeta can tell from the imperceptible curve at the right corner of her mouth that Katniss is trying to be polite.

"What do you ladies want?" Finnick asks, kissing the crown of Annie's head as she declines popcorn but demands Junior Mints. "Bristel?"

The unusual eyes land right on Peeta as she smiles. "I'm good. I just had dinner."

"You can't see a movie without popcorn," Katniss interjects, aghast. Peeta rolls his eyes at his best friend playfully.

"Well it will be nice not to have to pick Gummi bears out of mine for once. Medium. Extra butter," he adds.

"Oh, I can just share some of Peeta's then," Bristel says sweetly, brushing her palm along his forearm as she smiles coyly and follows Annie and Delly, giggling, and the three hand their tickets to the kid at the kiosk and disappear towards the auditoriums.

Katniss lines up the sodas and Delly's bottled water and begins shoveling popcorn into bags; when she gets to Peeta's, she locks eyes with him and stops several times to layer the butter so it's evenly distributed throughout the bag. He grins in appreciation, and her lips quirk up subtly as she hands it to him.

The guys all fish out money, though the total is nominal because Katniss punches in her employee discount and Peeta lingers at the counter when the rest of them turn to leave. He really wants to hold her attention for just a few seconds to talk about last night, but Finnick whistles through his teeth. "Peet! Let's go. The girls are waiting."

Katniss's eyes flicker and she nods to the couple in line behind Peeta. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

He sighs and follows his friends, shooting one last glance at Katniss, but she's already pouring a soda and staring at the cup in concentration.

The girls have chosen seats near the back of the theater, and Annie grins at him. "Sit there, Peeta!" She gestures with her head to the empty seat on the aisle—right beside Bristel.

With a grimace, he slides into the seat and sets his Coke in the cup holder. Bristel gazes over at him, and he offers the popcorn to her. She daintily plucks a few pieces without the yellow glaze of butter on them, and Peeta snickers to himself at her typical girly behavior. He much prefers Katniss's ravenous eating habits.

"So, Peeta, Annie says you play football. I was thinking of going out for cheerleading, but I missed the tryouts."

She prattles on about how she was a cheerleader at her old school, yet it's probably for the best since she's taking swimming really seriously now and all her efforts should be focused on that. He taps his foot idly, reading the inane trivia that they spool on the screen ahead of the films, knowing every answer by heart since it only changes once a month and he always seems to be at the movies with Katniss or visiting Katniss.

"Would you, ah, excuse me, Bristel? I forgot a straw for my drink," he fibs, inconspicuously flicking his straw under his seat. Her eyes flit to his cup, and she nods slowly.

"Where are you going?" Finnick hisses at him, leaning over Annie.

"To get a straw. I'll be right back."

He strides quickly back to the concession stand where Katniss and Rye are chatting with no one to attend to. The theater is pretty dead.

"Hey," he says, approaching the counter.

"Your date's fucking hot," Rye blurts, his blue eyes glinting wickedly. "I'd tap that in about ten seconds. I'm a sucker for dimples."

"She's not my date," he retorts hotly. "It's a group thing. Annie wants her to meet people before school starts."

"Yeah, cause she wasn't giving you those big doe eyes, Peeta. You're so clueless," Katniss snorts, dabbing at a puddle of spilled Coke with a rag. Rye snorts and elbows Katniss, and the two snicker conspiratorially.

He instinctively makes a fist and grabs a new straw. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Katniss purses her lips at him in challenge, her grey eyes scanning the lobby, but not finding any potential customers, she sighs and walks towards the end of the concessions counter. She raises an eyebrow at him and leans on the glass. "So talk."

"It's not a date," he reiterates quietly. "I'm sorry if I didn't include you but you're—"

She cuts him off with a flash of her eyes. "I don't really care if you're here with everyone, Peeta. You have a right to go have fun without me."

He coughs and his stomach twists as he recalls her mouth on his dick and tries to find a way to casually bring up what happened in the hot tub. "I would have invited you if you weren't working, Katniss." The straw rolls between his palms nervously. "So you're not mad?"

"It's pretty hard to get mad at you," she says dryly. She heaves a sigh, and she looks to her right fleetingly. "Rye is right. That girl is really pretty. And she definitely was checking you out the whole time you guys were standing here."

"Yeah, she's pretty. So?"

She shakes her head and hastily slides back over to her register when a father and two pre-teen boys sidle up, the boys bickering about candy. Peeta hangs back and watches Katniss wait on them. He knows he shouldn't be gone too long or he'll likely endure hazing and razzing from his friends, though maybe Bristel's presence will ease some of the inevitable teasing.

"Did you need something else?" she asks, reappearing before him. He digs his toe into the carpet and sighs.

"What happened last night?"

Her nose wrinkles. "What do you mean?"

"In the hot tub, Katniss."

She lowers her eyes briefly, but almost immediately her face shifts and relaxes. "Um, we got a little drunk and fooled around, I think. Right?"

"Right," he affirms, unable to keep the smile off his lips. "What does it mean…you know, for us?"

"For us?" she echoes dumbly. He nods. She glances away. "It means we got a little drunk and fooled around. It doesn't make things weird or anything…'cause friends, um, can experiment, right?"

Wrong. He's never had the urge to experiment by kissing Annie or Delly, and he definitely doesn't yearn to know what they taste like down there. His throat constricts and he needs a drink to quench the painful sensation that's suddenly settled in it.

"I should get back to work, Peeta. Enjoy the movie," she says, her braid whipping behind her as she turns her back to him to refill the popcorn basket with more kernels. Sighing again, he stalks back to the theater, slumps into his seat and jams the new straw into his drink.

"Everything okay?" Bristel asks gently, placing her hand over his. He glances down at it then up to her pretty face and nods mutely. She gives him a bright smile and leaves her hand on his as the lights dim and the previews begin.

When the movie ends two hours later, Marvel declares that the night is still young and they should go hit the Seam Street diner. As they all walk back towards the lobby, Peeta chances to look over at Katniss, but she's talking to Rye, and she doesn't look over at them.

"Hey, Rye, Katniss!" Marvel yells. "We're going to Seam Street Diner. Come by when you get off."

"Yeah, maybe," Rye calls.

"Katniss? You in?"

She finally makes eye contact with Peeta, and she smiles. "No, thanks. You guys go have fun." She gives a little wave and turns away, busying herself with reorganizing the different levels of soda cups so they are all even.

"Bristel, why don't you ride over with Peeta?" Annie suggests, giving Peeta a knowing look over Bristel's head. The girl's eyes light up and she agrees readily. With one last glimpse at Katniss, who watches him leave, a wry smile on her face, he leaves the theater and prepares to continue being polite for a few more hours.

* * *

Thankfully, Finnick and Annie take Bristel with them when they all call it quits for the night—apparently, she's sleeping over Annie's. Rye never wound up showing up at the diner, but his car also isn't in the driveway when Peeta gets home.

He's brushing his teeth when his phone rings, and he knows from the silly Usher ringtone that Finnick programmed himself that it's him. He spits hastily and answers the call, telling Finnick to hang on while he finishes.

"So? Finnick's voice is fraught with exuberance.

"So?" he mimes. Finnick guffaws.

"Bristel, man. She couldn't stop talking about you. She likes you, bro."

"She was nice," he hedges, flicking on his television to ESPN to scan the baseball scores.

"Nice?" he snorts. "Grandmas are nice, Peet."

"My grandma is a total bitch, Finn, and you know it."

"I don't get you. Why are you so reluctant to date one girl, man? There are literally tons of girls throwing themselves at you. What's the fucking problem?"

Peeta sighs inwardly. Where does he even begin to address that loaded question?

"I mean, shit, you're not, um…you're not…" Finnick drops his voice and clears his throat nervously. "You're not, like, into dudes, right?

"I'm not gay, Finnick."

Finnick exhales audibly. "Good. I mean…not that there's anything wrong with that, but…yeah…" He laughs to dispel some of the awkwardness that his blunt question has raised. "So you wouldn't be opposed to seeing Bristel again?"

Peeta rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palm and formulates the best answer he can generate to keep Finnick off his back. "We can hang out this summer, Finn. If she's there, it's cool with me. But with football and college applications hanging over my head, I'd just rather not be serious with one girl right now."

Unless, of course, that girl is Katniss.

* * *

"Remind me again how we let Annie talk us into this?" Katniss hisses as she adjusts the habit to itch at her forehead.

Peeta smirks and reaches over to help her tuck her long hair back under the white hood. "Because she hasn't seen Finnick in three weeks and we love her and we'd never let her go to a frat party without at least one other person she knows in attendance?" He taps her nose with his finger. "Safety in numbers."

"I guess," Katniss grumbles, kicking at a rock in the road. "Where are they? It's not exactly warm out here." The late October air has a decisive chill to it, and the rustling of what little leaves remain on the trees catches the breeze. The cape of Peeta's costume lifts with the slight wind and snaps into Katniss's path. "Hey, Superman, can you keep that thing under control?"

He frowns and grabs the cape and clutches it in his fist. He's not thrilled with his costume, the result of a foolish bet he made with Finnick two months ago during a game of knockout. Peeta has never been particularly cocky, but he usually bested Finnick at basketball so he had reluctantly agreed to the wager that allowed the winner to choose the other's Halloween costume. When Finnick sunk his last shot, he gleefully told Peeta for prepare for something with tights.

He would have been okay with Robin Hood—then he could have casually suggested to Katniss that she be his Maid Marian. To his horror, Finnick had produced the red-and-blue unitard, tights and the cape, and to further the humiliation, Katniss hadn't agreed to the idea of being Lois Lane.

In fact, Peeta had to contain a laugh when she opened the bathroom door earlier that night and revealed her choice of costume.

"What?" she had said comically, posing dramatically in the doorway. "You don't have a thing for _The Sound of Music_ like Finn does with _The Little Mermaid_?"

Well, maybe now he would. Only Katniss could be dressed in a nun's habit and still get his dick to stiffen.

"They get five more minutes and we're leaving without them," she complains, hugging herself tighter and rocking back on her heels. "Maybe they couldn't wait any longer and had to go at it in his room already." She smirks and bumps his hip. "I can see your nipples through that thing, by the way."

"Thanks," he retorts, nodding to the doorway of Finnick's frat house. "There they are."

"You guys ready for your first official college Halloween party?" Finnick grins wickedly, clutching Annie's hand to help her walk in the restrictive mermaid tail.

Katniss rolls her eyes at Peeta. "I'm rubbing down goose bumps. Literally. It's freakin' cold out here."

It's a short walk to Finn's sister-sorority house where the party is being held. Finnick convinces Peeta to let him partner with Katniss for beer pong; part of the reason, he admits, is he wants to watch his fraternity brothers gape at how good she is. Peeta argues that she'll be just as good with him as a partner, but then Finnick goes for the jugular and reminds Peeta that he needs to win handily so as not to get too drunk. He winks as if to solidify the message.

Peeta sighs, defeated and he acquiesces, but only because he knows Finnick and Annie plan to have sex for the first time tonight. Far be it from him to be a cock block.

So Peeta and Annie spend most of the evening chatting and watching Finnick and Katniss win game after game, and he tamps down plenty of unfounded pangs of jealousy with each high five and hug the two engage in. Annie doesn't seem to mind, but eventually she gives Finnick a look and when Katniss excuses herself to use the restroom, Finnick tells Peeta to fill in for him and he and Annie make their escape.

Katniss hasn't returned after a few minutes and Peeta can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension. What if something happened to her? It is a sorority house crawling with frat guys. No, that's stupid. Maybe there's just a line for the bathroom. Yeah, that's it. Still, he decides to wander off in the direction she went and casually look for her.

A few girls eye him up and down, and one actually reaches out and grabs his bicep and slurs something about seeing what's under his cape, sloshing a bright pink concoction over the edge of her Solo cup, and his cheeks flame at the compliment.

Out of the corner of his eye he spies Katniss in the kitchen, standing near the kegs, talking to a guy twice her size who is dressed like some kind of ninja. She's smiling politely, but it doesn't quite reach those grey eyes, which definitely look hazier than usual. The guy seems to be indifferent, leaning down towards her, his hulking frame blatantly cornering her.

"Hey, there you are," Peeta says loudly, approaching her and her eyes struggle to focus on his. She's definitely drunk. But a wider smile steals across her pretty features when she recognizes him.

"Who the fuck is this?" the guy asks. "Your boyfriend?"

Katniss's eyes flash defiantly. "No, he's my_ best_ friend." She throws her arms around his neck and drags herself onto her toes. "But he _is_ a really good kisser. I like it when he kisses me."

"Katniss, shhh," he chastises her. "Let's go find a place for you to lie down."

The frat guy rolls his eyes and mutters a few things about 'high school girl' and 'tease' and Peeta's eyes are daggers as he watches the guy amble off.

"Thanks for rescuing me, Superman," she slurs, running her hand up and down his arm, clutching at his bicep possessively. Her nun's habit has shifted on her head, her dark hair peering out from the left side. She rises onto her toes and backs him into the refrigerator, her lips hovering just a few inches from his. The stale aroma of beer fans from her parted mouth. His costume leaves no room to conceal any reaction he could have to her, so he quickly backs away. "You really are a super…man…" She giggles and as her hand descends along his abdomen, he inhales sharply and seizes her wrist to detour her palm from what he can only assume was her intended destination.

"Katniss, let's get out of here. We'll go back to Finnick's and lie down." Katniss issues a feeble protest, but as she pitches and sways, he steadies her with an arm around her slender waist and his other hand laced through hers.

It takes some effort, but he manages to find their way back to Finnick's frat house; Peeta guides Katniss upstairs to the second floor and they stumble down the hall to the room where Finnick stowed a few futons—Finnick swore the guy whose room it is was okay with two high schoolers crashing there while he was home visiting his girlfriend for the weekend. Peeta purposefully tries not to listen for any sounds coming from Finnick's closed door as they pass it.

He doesn't have time to think when he closes the door to their room; Katniss backs him into it as she did before, her breath hot on his neck. He thinks she's about to lean up to kiss him when her knees buckle, and he lunges out to grab her forearm before she can crumble to the floor. "Peeta, the room is spinning," she moans softly. "I want to lie down." She backs away from him and struggles towards the bed.

"Katniss, no," he chides, looping an arm around her waist. She can't collapse on some strange guy's bed. "Finnick got these futons for us. Here." He gently cradles her down to a seated position on one, and she smiles fuzzily at him.

"That was nice of him. I drank for him tonight, you know. I can be nice too."

He brushes more hair that has escaped the nun's habit out of her bleary eyes. "You are very nice."

"You're nicer than nice. You're perfect. Why are you so perfect? Why do you always take such good care of me?"

He sighs inwardly. "Katniss, let's get you out of that costume."

"Mmm…you're just trying to get me naked, Peeta Mellark."

He ignores her comment, as much as it heats his blood, and rummages through the overnight bag she brought, locating her little sleep shorts and his football t-shirt. She yanks the habit off her head, yelping quietly as she pulls her own hair, and she struggles to her feet, swaying again as she reaches behind her neck to unzip the gown. Peeta covers her hands with his and gently works the zipper down; her shoulder blades bow as she shrugs the billowy nun's costume down.

"You can keep undressing me if you want," she purrs, and he can smell the beer sour on her breath.

He wants to. God does he want to. But she's drunker than he's ever seen her and no matter how badly he wants to finally dip his tongue between her legs or bury himself inside her again, he can't do it. Not in her current condition with her severely lowered inhibitions.

"Put your hands up," he orders softly, and she makes a face at him.

"I don't sleep in my bra."

"Then take it off."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "You do it," she challenges. Not about to argue with her, he tosses her the shirt and waits for her to either remove the bra or just put on the shirt. Her lips pout, but she unhooks the garment and eases the straps down her arms, and Peeta diverts his eyes from her breasts. "Why won't you look at me?" she asks, and the woozy look in her eyes now mingles with a wounded one.

He pins her with an overt look, still avoiding anything but her eyes, and her nose twitches before she struggles to tug the shirt on over her bare chest. She doesn't bother to put on the sleep shorts, curling up on her side, facing away from him. "Katniss," he begins, sighing deeply when she does not reply. He scans the room for the trashcan and places it beside her futon. "Just in case," he murmurs, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her temple. She doesn't stir, and he can only deduce that she's passed out.

Quietly, he pads down the hall to the bathroom where he strips off his costume, pees and throws on a pair of sweats. He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth, incredulous that he had the resolve to hold back from having sex with Katniss. Judging by the way she was talking and her flirty actions, he doesn't doubt she would have consented to it. But he did the right thing; he couldn't fuck his best friend and risk ruining any chance of ever moving their friendship to the next step if there was the slightest chance she wouldn't _remember_ saying yes to him.

As he fights to get comfortable on the tiny makeshift bed, he can't resist shoving his futon as close as he can get it to where she slumbers, and his eyes are still fixed on the double "Ls" in his last name on his jersey on her back when he finally nods off.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, eyes sticky with sleep and his mouth drier than cotton, Katniss is still snoring lightly beside him. Her lips are parted, and her eyelashes flutter rapidly. He fumbles behind him for his phone and checks the time. 9:32. Ugh. He had really wanted to head back home by ten to finish working on a poetry paper for Ms. Trinket's AP English class that's due on Friday. It will take at least three hours to drive home, and while he knows Katniss gets ready fast, Annie does not. They'll be lucky to get on the road by eleven—noon is a safer estimate.

He lets Katniss sleep a little longer while he uses the bathroom and showers, moving quickly in case any of Finnick's fraternity brothers who actually live there want to use their own facilities. After he's dressed and has brushed his teeth, he pads back down the hall to the room he stayed in and pushes open the door. Katniss stands topless before him.

"Oh. God, Katniss, I'm sorry! I should have knocked."

She locks eyes with him and flips her hair over her shoulder, then slips her arms through her bra straps and finally settles the cups over her bare breasts as she fastens the hook behind her back. "Nothing you haven't seen before," she replies flippantly, grabbing a grey Henley from her bag and tugging it down over her lacy black bra.

He hesitates in the doorway and watches her wiggle into her worn jeans. "Still, I should have knocked," he repeats. "It was rude of me to barge in." She shrugs. "No shower?"

"I'll shower at home." She glances around and grabs her discarded Halloween costume and balls it up, jamming it into her bag. "Are we leaving soon?"

"We can," he hedges. "We have to see if Annie's up though."

She is not, and when Peeta knocks on the door to Finnick's room, Finn answers the door with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Peeta has to smirk back at his friend, and Finnick steps into the hall, lowering his voice to a hush.

"That good, huh?" Peeta asks wryly.

Finnick nods. "So worth the wait. I'm telling you, Peet, I don't know what you're waiting for. You just need to man up and get it over with." Peeta cringes at Finnick's choice of words, being they're identical to the actual words Katniss used after they slept together last spring. "I still don't know why you don't give Bristel a chance. She's a great girl."

Peeta nods towards the door. "I'll leave you guys alone, but try to get Annie up and ready by noon, okay?"

"Oh I'll wake her up, no worries." He smiles lasciviously and wiggles his eyebrows before slamming the door.

Katniss is milling about the room when he knocks to signal his return and she huffs that he should just come in. She gazes at a bulletin board above the guy's desk, wrinkling her nose at the countless photographs of him with a pretty brunette, obviously his girlfriend. When she glances behind her and sees him, she jabs at the board with her thumb. "This guy's totally whipped. Not a single picture of anyone but his girlfriend. Bet his friends all hate him now."

"You're so cynical," he chides. "It's sweet. He clearly loves her."

She snorts. "It'll never last. They never do."

"I think Annie and Finnick will last," he retorts, and she shakes her head.

"We'll see. But he was with other girls first so maybe he got it out of his system."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "What are you talking about?"

She sits down on the edge of the futon and grabs for her sneakers. As she laces them, she glances up at him. "So when are you going to finally go out with that girl Finnick and Annie have been trying to set you up with…Bristel, right?"

He gapes at her, and she gives him a knowing look as she leans over and double-knots her shoes to match his. "You…" He shakes his head; he's not usually at a loss for words, but Katniss's query has rendered him temporarily mute. "You think I should go out with her?" he asks cautiously even as his stomach is twisting into its own double-knot that she thinks he should date someone else.

"She's pretty," Katniss replies simply. "And you'd look really good together." She nods at the bulletin board. "And then you can put up all kinds of stupid pictures like this and live happily ever after. But she likes you. Might as well start somewhere."

She makes a perfectly valid point. He just never thought he'd start or end anywhere but with her.

* * *

_There is one week left to donate to the Fandom4LLS and make your donation of at least $10 to secure yourself a lovely collection of fics from a treasure trove of authors. Just go to their website (fandom4lls dot __blogspot dot com) and click the link to donate. Instructions follow for how to submit your receipt for the collection. _

_I've submitted two short pieces; one is the prologue to All For One, a historic fic featuring Musketeer!Everlark; and the other is a sneak peek from a scene out of another WIP that is yet unpublished, a coming of age story called Good Fences. I'm very excited about both...but I'm not going to lie...I'm most excited for HGR's Rebel outtake. *squeal*_


	7. Chapter 6-I'll Pour You a Drink

**_Author__'s__ Note-_**_Thanks for your patience with the updates to this (and all my stories) since school started. Things are just crazy in my real life and I still have many talented authors that I beta for and their work comes first most times. But I will say that the incredible reviews, the constant follows and the messages that you all send (even to Streetlight on her tumblr!) reassure me that you guys love this story, and that makes me happy because it is quite the beast to tame some nights with long chapters and lots of plot continuity. I think I responded to all the reviews from Chapter 5, but I apologize if I missed anyone. _

_This chapter has the additional inspiration of Kenny Chesney's "Come Over" and Luke Bryan's "Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye" and I must dedicate it to the incomparable Jessa for her work last week with PiP. Thank you, dear. THG belongs to Suzanne Collins._

_As always, thanks go to my lovely trio of ILoVeRynMar (who can attest to the number of times ONE paragraph in the NOW changed in three days), Streetlightlove and Pookieh for prereading, catching my silly errors and being the best support a girl could ask for. ILY!_

_Rated M for sexual situations and language. _

* * *

"_Swing On By, I'll Pour You a Drink..."_

_~Now~_

_(26 years old)_

* * *

Peeta stares down at his phone, waiting for it to go off with another reply from the unknown number.

_(215) 342-5616: Its madge. Undersee. _

He lets out a breath. Well, at least some random psychopath doesn't have his cell.

_Peeta: yeah its fine. I could have given it to you—sorry. Whats up?_

He's expecting the phone to buzz with a reply, but instead, it rings in his hand, the number he now knows to be Madge's displayed on the screen.

"Hi, Madge."

"I swear I'm not a stalker," she laughs into the phone. "Are you sure it's okay that I grabbed your number out of your financial file? You don't seem to use your Facebook that much and…"

"I said it's fine, Madge, no worries."

"Oh, good! I'm not bothering you, right?"

"Not at all. What's up?"

She starts to ramble about meeting with a few clients at his school on Wednesday—some teachers who actually want to increase their contributions for September—and she hedges for a few moments before she asks if he wants to have lunch with her that afternoon. "It'll be my treat. I can grab something from that deli right around the corner from the school."

"Sure, Madge, that would be great," he replies automatically, and she sighs audibly on the other end.

"Great. When is your lunch on Wednesdays so I can make sure you have enough time to eat?"

Wednesday. His busiest day. He recalls Katniss's stung expression when she brought him lunch just last week. He hadn't even considered his schedule when he answered Madge so quickly. Shit.

Well fuck it. It's not like Katniss's feelings are going to be hurt. She'll never know if he has lunch with Madge Undersee. And it's just lunch. Friends have lunch all the time.

Right?

* * *

Madge is nothing if but prompt, and as the last of his third period class filters out of his classroom on Wednesday morning, she appears in the doorway toting a large white bag, a broad smile on her pretty face. "Hi!"

"Hey," he calls, closing his laptop and sliding it into his bag before locking it in his bottom desk drawer.

"I wasn't sure what you liked so, ah, I got turkey and I got roast beef. I like both so you can choose."

"I like both too," he replies, and her face breaks into a relieved smile. "I just need to go into the faculty lounge and grab a soda from the machine."

"Oh I got bottled water," Madge offers. "I bought two."

Peeta smiles. He always brings a huge water bottle to school, but he usually relies on the little jolt of caffeine from an early-afternoon Coke, yet he doesn't want to hurt Madge's feelings. "That's great. Okay."

Madge hesitates. "On second thought, I could go for a soda too. Diet."

"I'll be right back then."

She places a hand on his arm. "I can walk with you." Still toting the bag from the deli, she falls into step beside him and waits as he feeds the cantankerous vending machine several different bills before it finally accepts one and spits out a Diet Coke. It takes four tries to get his Coke.

As they round the corner to start down the corridor that leads to his wing, he stops cold. Coming out of the main office, her hair pinned up in a neat twist and wearing a skirt and blazer, is Katniss. She squares her shoulders and shoves something into her bag then fumbles around inside the satchel, inevitably to fish out her car keys, and as she raises her head, she glances up and meets his eyes. He can see the shock register on her beautiful face even from a good twenty yards away.

What is she doing here?

His pulse quickens when her eyes flit to the blonde woman at his side. Katniss drops her gaze almost as hastily and Peeta frowns when she turns toward the double doors.

"Hang on, Madge. Wait right here."

She nods and clutches the bag with their lunch as Peeta walks brusquely up the hall to catch Katniss before she leaves. When he's a few feet from her, he reaches for her shoulder.

"Oh, hey," she says flatly when he maneuvers her to face him. Up close he sees the subtle makeup she's wearing, and he also realizes she's wearing heels—she never wears heels.

"Hey you," he begins warmly, keeping his tone even in spite of his rampant curiosity and the defensive air in her stormy irises. "What are you doing here? Were you really going to leave without saying hi to me?"

She cranes her neck and looks over his shoulder in the direction where Madge loiters. "I wasn't planning on it. I know Wednesdays are bad for you, so I wasn't going to risk interrupting you again. Her voice is laced with resentment when she goes right for the jugular. "And you sure look pretty busy."

The hurt radiates from her eyes and so he lets the biting remark slide and clears his throat. "You look really nice. So what _are_ you doing here?"

She purses her lips and he sees her chest inflate slightly. "I, um, was dropping something off."

"What?"

"My résumé." She averts her eyes and fiddles with the strap on her bag.

"You're applying for a job here?" he asks softly, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. Katniss nods slowly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you, Peeta. I know you have better things to worry about than me. It's a long shot anyway," she replies. "I really didn't think it was even worth mentioning." Her eyes cut back to where Madge is still standing. "Your lunch date looks like she is getting impatient. That's what's in the bag, right? Lunch."

"Ah, yeah. She was visiting a few clients and—"

"Well, I won't keep you." She turns and he reaches for her arm, gripping it lightly just below her shoulder.

"You're not going to tell me about this job?"

"It's nothing to get too excited about." She hesitates. "It's a music position. I'd have to go do that alternate route thing to get my teaching certification if I'm hired, but the online posting said that was acceptable."

He can't help but get excited for her. "Katniss that would be so perfect for you." He feels his chest flood with warmth, any residual anger he's harboring towards her dissipating. "You could be right down the hall from me."

"I wouldn't go getting your hopes up. It's a long shot," she repeats, "and I'm sure there are way more qualified candidates."

"Hey," he chides, lifting her chin with his finger, forcing her to meet his eyes directly. "Have some faith in yourself."

"I've never been good at that," she replies tightly. "Your lunch date is waiting. Have a good afternoon, Peeta," she replies, shaking her arm free as she pushes through the double doors. He watches her descend the stairs and hasten across the parking lot. He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks back to Madge. She studies him with inquiring blue eyes.

"Everything okay?"

He nods. "Ah, yeah. She's fine. Sorry, Madge, I was just a little surprised to see her here. Let's go eat."

"I think it's great that you and Katniss have stayed friends all these years," Madge begins as he leads her to his classroom and closes the door behind them. "I've known a lot of male-female friendships that have gone south when other people got involved or…you know…" She shrugs as Peeta clears a spot on his desk and pulls up a chair for her as he sinks into his own desk chair. "Can I tell you something, Peeta?"

"Sure," he says cautiously, unpacking the bag from the deli.

Madge sits down and stares at him earnestly. "It's silly actually. But you know that I was always kind of jealous of Katniss?"

"Jealous?" he repeats, surprised by her candid admission.

"Oh yeah." She nods, unwrapping the turkey sandwich and sliding it across to him. "Please don't misinterpret that, though. I liked Katniss. I still do, even if I haven't seen her much in recent years. But god, she was always around you, and you guys were just so close…" She hides a smile as she bites into her sandwich and chews thoughtfully. "And then when I finally thought I had a chance with you at prom, you left to go to her."

He takes a quick bite of his own sandwich. That night always seems to creep back into his consciousness around this time of year as the high school prepares for the Junior Prom and Senior Ball. He always seems to wind up chaperoning one or both as part of his administrative duties. This year, he swapped with Annie when she got the Junior Prom assigned to her since she and Finnick will be on their honeymoon when the dance is held. After he swallows, he gazes at Madge. "You thought you had a chance with me? You liked me?"

Madge blushes and picks at a stray piece of roast beef hanging over the edge of the rye bread. "Um, yeah. A lot, actually." She pauses thoughtfully. Her confession doesn't surprise him. He had so much as expected Madge had liked him back in high school. But her next words do. "I still do, Peeta."

"Still…"

She reaches over and places her hand over his, rubbing her thumb along his hand idly. "I still like you. I was in a pretty bad place a few months ago." Words begin to tumble from her lips and she tells him all about her ex-fiancé, who was cheating on her and stealing money from her, among other things. "When I finally got up the nerve to end the engagement and I got the word that I was being transferred to this branch of the company, back to Panem, and one of my schools was yours, well, I guess I took it as a sign."

"Madge," he warns softly, pulling his hand back and wiping it against his pants. Both his palms are suddenly clammy.

"It's okay, Peeta," she says. "I don't expect anything from you. I'll happily take a friendship." She hesitates. "But if there's any chance that with a little bit of time that friendship could be something more, I thought you should know up front that I am more than willing to see where it could go."

Well, then. Ten years hasn't made Madge any less forward.

He's never been one to be at a loss for words, but somehow, Madge's bluntness manages to render him mute for a few moments as he considers what she's proposing. Is she right? Is Madge's reemergence in his life at a time when things are so muddled with Katniss a sign that he needs to explore his options? He's never been attracted to Madge. But the intense chemistry he has with Katniss has also never gotten him anywhere.

And the real question is: could he ever _learn_ to love anyone but Katniss?

* * *

He frowns at the list in his hands as he settles onto his couch with a Guinness and his iPad, intent on updating the roster for the varsity and JV football teams for the upcoming fall season. Coach Abernathy had asked him to post the cuts tomorrow morning, but he reminded the older man that he could have them up on the school's website's athletic page by midnight. It's how Annie handled the girls' swim team tryouts this past winter, and it worked just fine. Coach Abernathy had grumbled something about technology and bulletin boards and waved at him to 'get it done.'

About halfway through the task, which is taking longer than it should thanks to his intermittent Wi-Fi, his cell phone jumps on the end table beside his beer, "Barracuda" blaring from the device. But before he can even make the decision to answer it or not, the phone falls silent and the red notification pops up to show the missed call. He furrows his brows and stares at the phone, waiting a few seconds to see if another alert indicates a voicemail—which she never usually does, but Katniss has done stranger things recently.

He turns his attention back to the iPad, consulting the paper for the names he needs, but his focus keeps drifting to his phone. Did Katniss mean to call him? Or was it an accident? But normally even when one of them accidentally calls the other, they usually let the call connect and then joke about it and wind up having a conversation anyway. It nags at him. He hates it, but it does.

His fingers drum on the end table, subconsciously inching towards the phone. Fuck it. Against his better judgment, he picks it up. It rings several times before she answers with a hesitant 'hello.'

"Hey, Katniss. Did you call me?"

"Oh…ah…yeah…I'm sorry," she says so softly that he has trouble hearing her even in the silence of his apartment. There is a lot of background noise on her end, muffled conversation and a thumping bass. "I didn't mean to call you. I hit the wrong button. I don't want to bother you."

Something is off about her voice. "Katniss, where are you?"

Silence. "Um…a bar."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Duh, Peeta. That's what you do at a bar."

She doesn't sound drunk at all, but he still can't place what's off about her tone. He clears his throat and sets down the iPad. "Why are you drinking tonight?"

There's an audible sigh over the line. "I thought I wanted to be alone and this seemed like a good place to come. But I don't want to be alone tonight, Peeta. But I also don't want to bother you, and now I have bothered you and…" That's it. Panic. There's a palpable edge of panic in her voice.

"You're not bothering me, Katniss," he replies, closing his eyes. "Can you drive?"

"I've only had one vodka and cranberry."

He blows out a long, low breath and knows he will likely regret what he says next, "Come over, Katniss. I'll have a drink with you." He technically already has the open bottle of Guinness that is only missing two sips. "Katniss?" A glance down at his phone alerts him to the fact that she's ended the call without warning. He waits for her to call back. She never said where she was, but he kind of hopes she had better sense than to go to the seedy bar around the corner from her and Annie's place. Several minutes pass without his phone ringing again, and so he taps the star to bring up his 'Favorites' and presses her name.

When the door to his apartment opens, he freezes with the phone to his ear.

"Hi," she breathes. He's surprised to see her in another dress, this one a short, clingy dark green thing that ends mid-thigh and reveals more cleavage than he's ever seen Katniss flash before.

"How did you…?"

She closes the door, crosses the room, and takes the phone from his hand, setting it down next to his beer again. "How did I get here so fast?" She smiles knowingly as he nods, clearly pleased with herself that she finished his thought for him. "I was at McSorley's." The Irish pub that Peeta favors is a mere three blocks from his place, and her choice now seems deliberate. "You started without me," she says, running her finger around the lip of the bottle.

"No," he corrects, rising from the couch to gaze down at her. Her grey eyes are rimmed with some kind of sparkly liner, which matches the flecks of glitter on her eyelids. The makeup can't disguise the reddish tint around her irises though, a clear indication that she's recently been crying. "You started without me." She purses her lips at him and reaches for the Guinness. She arches an eyebrow at him when she feels how full it is.

Toting the beer with her, she makes a beeline for the kitchen, setting it down before opening the cabinet beside the refrigerator. She pulls out a bottle of Southern Comfort and unscrews the cap, then saunters back towards him, but continues past him to the couch. She plops down, putting her worn tan suede boots up on the ottoman as she takes a swig from the bottle, scrunching her nose as she swallows and rests her head back on the cushions.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she murmurs as he settles beside her and she passes him the bottle. "I know you have work in the morning."

He refrains from pointing out that she does too, knowing what a point of contention her job is at the moment. "I was just doing the football roster for Abernathy," he replies, taking a sip, and he can taste her lip gloss on the rim as he does. He swallows; the peach liqueur is far too sweet for his taste, but it still goes down smoothly and leaves the familiar pleasurable burn in its wake. Katniss takes the bottle back and drinks again.

"When is that guy gonna retire and let you run the show? He's been coaching since before we were born."

"He's not as old as you think. The drinking and the smoking ages him. So who did you give your résumé to today?"

She wipes her mouth and traces the letters on the bottle's label, shrugging. "I didn't actually give it to anyone, Peeta," she replies quietly. "When I got there, the secretary told me that all job applications need to go through the central administrative office or something and if I had read the posting carefully I would have known that."

"Oh, was it the red-haired secretary? She's a bitch to everyone. Don't worry about it." Instinctively, he reaches for her knee, his palm hovering just above the bare skin, but he retracts his hand.

She shrugs again and thrusts the bottle at him, leaning down to unzip her boots. He follows the supple curve of her calves as she pulls first one boot, then the other off her feet. Tucking her legs beneath her, the skirt of her dress rides up on her thigh, and he swishes another mouthful of liqueur down.

"Is that why you're upset?"

"Because some snotty woman who looks like a fox and needs an attitude adjustment reprimanded me?" she snorts. "Hardly."

"Then what's bothering you? Why did you want to be alone tonight?"

She heaves a heavy sigh and plays with the hem on her dress before snatching the Southern Comfort back. She takes a liberal sip and closes her eyes. "I didn't want to be alone tonight. I realized that as soon as I got to the bar. It took one drink and suffering through a few bad karaoke singers for me to miss you." She laughs softly. "Remember the time when we all went to McSorley's after Finnick and Annie's engagement party and I got to you to sing "Leather and Lace" with me?"

"I knew exactly three words in that song." He smiles wryly at the memory. "And you know how hard it is to read words scrolling across a screen when you've had a few shots? You always have to pick obscure songs from the eighties for your performances."

A spark flickers in her grey eyes. "Stevie Nicks is not obscure. Neither is Don Henley." Then she coughs and tips the bottle back, her throat bobbing twice, and he places his hand on the warm skin of her thigh.

"Hey. Easy," he warns, pulling the bottle away and setting it down on the end table.

"My father hated Fleetwood Mac. It's one of the things I really remember about that asshole." Her voice cracks on the last word, and she blinks rapidly. "Probably why I like them so much." And then she says suddenly, "I wish you would have come to Prim's ceremony with me tomorrow, Peeta.

"We're back to that?" He lifts his hand from her leg, but she grabs it and clutches it tightly in her lap. "I told you that it should be about your family, Katniss, and—"

"Family?" The word spews off her tongue and her eyes narrow. "Family," she repeats, her face contorting in anguish. "He's not my family. He has no fucking right to be there. It should be you sitting next to me. You're my family, Peeta." She shudders and her chest rises and falls rapidly with her accelerated breathing.

"Katniss, you're not making any sense," he says gently. "Who's not your family?"

"My father," she spits, and though she blinks quickly again, the first tears breach her lashes and slide down her cheeks. "That shithead thinks he can waltz back into our lives sixteen years later and make everything all better?" She swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, but new tears glisten on them, and she ducks her head.

His stomach drops as he begins to assemble the pieces of Katniss's words and her odd behavior, and then something manifests in his mind like a gunshot: her nightmares. The initial instinct he had that her nightmares generally involved her father—an instinct he had brushed off—was accurate. But as he regards her trembling, tears staining her cheeks, looking broken and all of about ten-years-old, he wishes he hadn't been right this time.

"Hey." He reaches over and snakes his arm around her, tucking her against his chest, and begins stroking her hair soothingly. "It's okay, Katniss. You can let it out." His fingers card through the waves, kneading her scalp as she huddles closer to him.

"It—" She takes a gulp of air and a garbled sob erupts from her throat. "It wouldn't have happened if you had said yes. If you would have just taken the fourth ticket, there wouldn't have been a ticket for him to take."

He presses his lips together and his fingers accidentally catch on several strands of her hair, but she issues no yelp of pain, no protest for him to stop. Guilt eddies in his gut and rises like floodwaters. "Your father is going to Prim's graduation," he states quietly.

"Yes," she whispers, glancing up at him, and her mouth hangs open as if she wants to say more, but instead she twists in his arms, lurches across him, and grabs for the SoCo again.

"Katniss, enough. Put it down. I'm here. You don't need any more to drink. I'm here."

She ignores him and draws another long sip, then plunks the bottle down and resettles in his arms. "You remember when my dad walked out on my mom and Prim and me?" She doesn't wait for him to answer. "You snuck me those cheese buns and that raisin bread that I loved from your dad's bakery every day for two weeks. And you brought Prim that kitten you found behind the bakery."

"I remember," he replies softly. "I'm…" He pauses and swallows to dislodge the boulder that's barricaded itself in his windpipe. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I wish you would have said something."

She laughs bitterly. "I didn't want to guilt you into coming."

"Well, I sure as fuck feel guilty right now." Reaching for the SoCo, he appraises the bottle and the liqueur sloshes around, washing up the sides. They probably should have used shot glasses as the bottle is now halfway gone, but it's a little late for that. "How did you find out? I mean…when did you find out about this?"

Katniss starts to run her fingers back and forth along the bottom of his shirt; her fingers bunch the fabric and occasionally graze his skin just above his shorts. He waits for her to speak, but it's several moments before she snakes her hand under his shirt and her index finger maps the lines of his abdominal muscles as she explains that Sunday morning she had gotten a phone call from Prim and her sister had dropped the bombshell that for the past year she'd been communicating with their father, meeting him for dinners and catching up with him. He listens attentively, his sympathy for Katniss mounting as the ache in her voice amplifies when she relates the argument that occurred that morning about the graduation ticket.

"And so, we had come to a compromise," she continues, her lip quivering, "that I had asked you about the ceremony first, and if you went, Prim would have to tell my father no, and he could have his own private celebration with her if she was stupid enough to want such a thing." She looks up at him, her palm splaying over his navel, playing with the fine hairs just below it. "When you said no, she offered it to him. And so now tomorrow I am going to have to sit beside him, with my mother and Rory like some kind of happy fucked-up family."

"It's a few hours." He stills her hand on his stomach, the layer of cotton separating their palms. "You'll get through it. You're a survivor, Katniss. Haven't I always told you that?"

"You're the only one," she replies plaintively. "It's his fault. It's all his fault."

"What is?"

"Everything." She licks her lips and as he studies her carefully, a faint flush has crept onto her cheeks, and the tearstains have faded into pinkish flecks. "He fucked everything up. He fucked me up. Look at me, Peeta. I'm 26 years old. I hate the job that I'm going to be fired from—"

"Being cut and being fired are not the same thing," he insists, gripping her hand through his shirt again. "That's hardly your fault."

"Same difference! Either way, I'm going to be out of work and have nothing to show for it. My sister is about to graduate with honors, with a degree that she can actually do something with, and she'll probably go to grad school or maybe even medical school and become a psychiatrist, and oh yeah, her boyfriend is about to propose to her, and she'll probably talk that shitty sperm donor we used to call 'Dad' into some lavish wedding and…"

"Katniss, whoa." He lifts his hand from his stomach and seizes her chin, cradling her jaw with both hands, forcing her to look right at him. "Calm down. Slow down."

"You said you wanted me to let it out." She inhales a deep breath.

"I know. But you're getting all worked up, and I don't like seeing you like this." Annie was wrong. Distressed is not the right word; Katniss is borderline hysterical. The tiny muscles beneath her orbital bone visibly twitch, and her hand jumps on his bare stomach. "Is this why you haven't been sleeping?" She shrugs. "Have you talked to Prim since you fought on Sunday?"

Her brows knit quizzically. But then her features suddenly morph and the veil of sorrow finally lifts from her eyes. She struggles to move her hand over his abdomen again, her fingers crawling towards the waistband of his boxer-briefs beneath his shorts. "I don't want to think about my dad or Prim or anyone anymore." Her breath tickles his neck as she nips lightly at his collarbone and lavishes a trail of kisses up to his jaw. Her tongue traces along his lower lip and she presses her lips to his hesitantly. "I just want to think about you right now, Peeta," she murmurs. "I want you. I want to be with you."

He closes his eyes. No, what she wants is for him to fuck her. Isn't that all she ever wants? He wishes she'd just say it directly instead of using words that are so shaded with genuine emotion that it always lulls him into that false hope that's shrouded him for too long.

But the kiss she initiates is soft, barely a sigh on his lips, and for a second he allows himself to believe it—that for once it will be more than just a fuck and her gone from his bed soon after. Almost immediately she draws back, her eyes locked on his as their lids both raise. "Do you remember the first time we kissed?"

"Of course," he replies, unable to contain his smile at the memory of the sloppy embrace she had planted on him when they were kids.

"I'm not thinking about that kiss by the creek," she says knowingly. "I'm thinking about that night you really kissed me—when you showed me how to kiss. You remember?"

Of course he does. He's kissed Katniss a thousand times in a hundred different ways, but the night she crawled in his window after she nearly broke her date's nose, that might still be the best kiss he's ever had. Nostalgia claws at him. Back then, he had such innocent hopes for dating her, professing his love to her and spending his life with her, the only girl he'd ever truly wanted to be with. The older, cynical Peeta yearns to go back and warn the younger, idealistic one that clinging to such futile hopes will only get him right back to where he started. "I remember."

She purses her lips at him invitingly and whispers. "Kiss me like that right now. Please?"

And it takes only that imperceptible movement of her mouth and the ardent edge to her voice for him to listen to his misguided heart and his dick—not his brain, like he should. He wants her too, god help him. Because it's wrong. And it's selfish. He's been down this road before and it's a fucking dead end.

And he'll probably hate himself in the morning when he wakes up to an empty bed.

But she's told him a thousand times that he's the only one who cares, he's the only one who can make her feel better, and she shouldn't feel alone tonight.

Peeta leans down and claims her mouth roughly, but she slips her hand out from under his shirt and tenderly runs her fingers along his jaw as he kisses her, the gentle feathery touches silently persuading him to take this slowly. His lips move over hers easily, and when she draws his tongue into the familiar warmth of her mouth, the heady taste of sweet peaches heats his blood. Her strokes are leisurely and sensual, and he's reminded of that time when they were teenagers and they did nothing but make out in the back seat of his car for nearly two hours.

"Let's go to bed," she murmurs when his lips begin to explore her neck, and he automatically nods. Standing first, wobbling slightly from the alcohol leeching through his bloodstream, he steadies himself and gets his bearings—he's not that drunk, really—then he reaches down and scoops her into his arms. A tiny squeak escapes her lips but her arms creep around his neck like vines, and he hears the hitch of her breath as her chest inflates.

Nudging his bedroom door open fully with his hip, he carries her inside and sets her down on the edge of his bed. Her hooded eyes are polished marble, hazy with lust, and her face is level with his groin. She reaches for his belt buckle and gazes up at him, a coy smile lifting her lips as she deftly works it free and unbuttons his shorts. Then she drags his boxer briefs down and licks her lips when his cock jumps free and practically juts into her face. One finger reaches out to trace the head and swipe at the beads of precum weeping from the slit, but as she grips the base of the shaft and retraces the head, this time with her tongue, he mumbles, "We've been drinking."

"It's never stopped me before," she replies huskily. "Besides, I just want you in my mouth for a little bit. I love having you in my mouth."

He closes his eyes and bucks his hips as her lips close around his cock and she begins a slow suckling. She takes him in as far as she can before nearly releasing him. "Oh, fuck, Katniss," he moans, fisting his hands through her hair as he feels her smile around his cock. Her other hand toys with his balls as she hollows her cheeks and increases the pace of her sucks. The familiar tingle crests and ebbs and her mouth feels so fucking good that he emits a strangled grunt of objection when she finally does release him.

She rises to her feet, her fingers trailing along either side of the defined muscles of his pelvis, murmuring her approval as she grips the bottom of his polo and slowly raises it up his torso and over his head. Her teeth worry her bottom lip in anticipation as he stands before her. "How are you so perfect?" she whispers, her hand wrapping around his erection again as she presses herself flush against him and nuzzles his neck. The crinkly fabric of the bodice of her dress scratches his chest, and he's suddenly aware he's naked and she is not.

"How are you still clothed?" he replies, hooking his thumbs under the straps of her dress, and the billowy fabric swishes on its way to the floor. Katniss steps over it and smiles at him shyly when he gapes at the very sexy bustier-style bra and impossibly tiny pair of panties she wears. Her breasts spill over the top of the scalloped lacy cups, beckoning him. He can't resist running his thumbs over the swells of the soft curves, and she trembles at his touch. "I haven't seen this before." He motions to the bra, moving his palm to cup one breast from underneath.

"I've been saving it." Her eyes glint and she brushes her lips along his collarbone, her tongue drawing lazy whorls over the hollow of his throat. Her mouth meets his again, and she moans into it when he begins kneading her breast through the lace and silk. He's not sure what possessed her to put it on under her dress tonight or what she could possibly have been saving for, but she looks so fucking hot in it he doesn't let himself consider the reasoning for long. _Stop thinking for once. Just enjoy her. Make her feel good. _

Her hand continues to pump his shaft earnestly, drawing him nearer to the precipice again, but soon she releases her grip on him and gives him a mischievous smirk as she climbs onto his bed and crawls up to the pillows, laying down on her back. She crooks a finger at him and runs her hands over her breasts. "Come here, Peeta."

He shakes his head at her and the sight of her sprawled on his sheets gives him one last pause. In spite of the racy lingerie and her confident ministrations, there is something very vulnerable haunting her features. The Katniss on his bed at this moment is one he struggles to place…has he ever seen that look in her eyes before? His eyelids lower, and he lets this vision of her this imprint on his memory before sinking to his knees on the mattress and creeping towards her. Her arms raise and wind around his waist, clutching at his shoulder blades to bring him down to her impatient mouth. He grasps her hips, fingers probing the bare skin just above the thin lace band of the thong, and she juts her pelvis up slightly, her tongue luring him into a deeper embrace.

She keeps their mouths molded together as she leans up and reaches behind her back to release the clasps on the bustier. Her eyes are molten mercury when he breaks the kiss, and she nods at him to peel the lace and silk away from her breasts; he immediately dips down to circle one hardened bud with his tongue. Katniss arches up and rolls her hips beneath him as he rakes his teeth over the nipple, nibbling and tugging, his cock throbbing as she writhes in enthusiastic endorsement of his efforts.

"Peeta, you're amazing," she murmurs, her voice throaty and raw with want. Her head tilts back on the pillow and her teeth clamp down on her lower lip and another cry of his name is garbled as a result. He showers equal attention on her other breast but allows his other hand to wander down her midsection to slip inside her panties, groaning when his fingers are instantly slick with her arousal. She's wetter than he's ever felt her, and his hand is drenched as he searches for her clit. He locates the swollen nub and begins to work it in slow revolutions, and Katniss whimpers and her nails groove crescents into his back. "Oh…fuuuuuck…"

The breathy curse spurs him on and he edges down the length of her body, his lips ghosting a meandering path along her ribcage to her navel as his fingers tug down the scrap of fabric pretending its underwear, baring her to him completely. He gazes up at her, and she rewards him with a serene smile that quickly disappears when his mouth latches onto her clit and her face twists in ecstasy. Incoherent noises slip from her parted lips and he has to hold her in place her thrashing exacerbates with each stroke of his tongue.

"Now, Peeta," she cries. "I need you now."

He dismisses her impassioned demand and continues his assault on her, humming against her, reveling in mingling of curse words peppering his name as she chants it and claws at the sheets, turning her head to scream into the pillow as her body spasms and her clit pulses against his tongue. He grins between her thighs as she convulses above him, and he waits, carefully observing her chest's rapid heaves slowly abating, and once he's satisfied that she's ridden out the first climax, he coaxes her knees up to her chest. Her abdominal muscles tense as she struggles to sit up, but when he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves again, she dissolves against the mattress, gasping and shuddering. "Peeta…oh holy…fuck…" And the rest of her thought dies on her lips as he pushes her over the edge again. He doesn't even need to glance up to know exactly how she looks at the moment—it's his favorite thing in the world to watch her come; he wonders if he will ever really have it in him to walk away from being the one who makes her fall apart.

"Come here," she begs again, her legs bowing like wings to welcome him between them. He swathes his tongue over his lips to gather the rest of her arousal from his mouth and hovers over her again. "Take me now. Please." She stretches her arms to fumble for his erection and rubs him through her slick heat, biting her lip as she stares up at him beseechingly. He closes his eyes and braces his arms on her shoulders as he moves to enter her with a swift thrust but she murmurs, "Go slow." Her legs wrap around his waist and encourage him as she raises her hips to meet his unhurried intrusion. He feels stretching to accommodate his girth—how does she always feel as tight as she did their first time? —and her hand brushes at his forehead, a few tendrils of his unruly curls tumbling forward. He tenses briefly at the gentle touch.

He builds a leisurely pace pumping in and out of her, her pelvis undulating in perfect rhythm with his movements. A strange feeling migrates through his belly and jostles with the familiar curls of desires already whirling there. Opening his eyes, he finds Katniss gazing up at him, her silver irises luminous twin moons in the dimly lit room. "Peeta," she whispers. "Yes, god, yes." She trails her thumb along the cliff of his jaw and seeks out his lips once more. The kisses are languorous and achingly sweet as their bodies move in unison. When was the last time they had sex without a frantic edge to it?

He's skirting closer and closer to losing control, his orgasm just eluding him as it becomes a challenge to keep the snap of his hips steady. Katniss's cries escalate when his mouth leaves hers and descends on her breast again, his tongue flicking back and forth over the nipple, and he reaches down to press his fingers to her clit. "Oh my god, Peeta. God…yes…ah…" Fuck, he would definitely miss her chanting his name too, the way she draws out the 'e's and ends with her mouth in nearly perfect 'o' by the time the 'a' finally falls from her lips. No one says his name quite like she does. But he stays mute lest he blurt out something foolish in return like 'I love you' and risk setting her off.

Her hands suddenly slip down his arms, hooking around his biceps fleetingly before she flails them out to the side, grasping desperately at the sheets as her back arcs up and her walls flutter wildly around his cock, the tightness gripping him like a vise as his balls clench reflexively and with a ragged grunt, he calls her name and follows her over the edge. His arms finally wobble like gelatin and she releases the sheets from her fists and rubs her palms soothingly up and down his biceps, her spasms finally waning and her face slackens with satisfaction. "Mmm…you…are…so good to me, Peeta. So fucking good."

He can't resist leaning down to claim her lips again, kissing her so harshly that he swears her lips are bruised when he finally breaks it off. Her eyes glaze over again and she smiles at him. His smile in response is tinged with his own uncertainty—how could he ever think about not having her like this again?

Finally he withdraws his flaccid cock from her and climbs off of her, padding to the bathroom to clean off and decides he might as well start getting ready for bed. She'll be redressed and bidding him goodnight in a few minutes anyway. He can pack his lunch and organize his things in the morning—he just needs to remember to set the alarm a bit earlier.

After he's brushed his teeth and washed his face and moved to lock up the apartment, he realizes Katniss has not appeared in the living room. Sighing, he returns to the bedroom and finds her curled on the side of the bed he prefers, her eyes closed, her hair tucked underneath her, her chest inflating and deflating in measured breaths. He frowns. "Katniss?" he calls. She doesn't stir. Another sigh. He crosses to the bed and shakes her lightly.

One pewter iris greets him as her eyelid raises, and a contended smile tugs at her lips. "Are you coming to bed? Or do you have work to finish?"

He blinks at her. "I'll gather my stuff in the morning before school. Are you staying?"

"Is that not okay?" She burrows down under the sheets further and opens her other eye, staring up at him.

She's going to pick tonight of all nights to stay in his bed? Fuck. He curses himself for the little flip of elation that rolls through his stomach. "Ah…I guess so."

Her eyelids flutter closed again and she sighs softly. He scrubs his hands over his face, manipulating his temples with the pads of his fingers harshly and once he's locked up, he slides into the bed beside her. When he's on his back, she coaxes him onto his side and spoons herself along the length of him, impulsively reaching for his arms to settle one on her hip and the other over her breast. "Good night, Peeta," she whispers.

But his eyes won't close. The warmth of her breast beneath his palm and the soft thump of her heart reverberating through her chest try in tandem to lure him under, but his mind is a whirlwind of emotions. Sleeping with her—the sex and having her in his arms for a prolonged time after—hasn't been such a tender, intimate experience in a long time. The way she looked at him…the adoration palpable in her tone…the sensual gyrations of her hips against him…dammit, why does it seem like something has changed between them tonight?

Why is that pathetic ray of hope flickering again?

* * *

_~Then~_

_Winter of Senior Year _

_(17-18 years old)_

* * *

"So it doesn't bother you that I'm eating this right now?" Katniss raises an eyebrow and teasingly makes a production of jamming half of an éclair in her mouth. Peeta sighs and shakes his head at her.

"You never get tired of rubbing that in, do you?" He grabs a rag and wipes at a smudge of chocolate that her fingers have left on the counter.

She licks a blob of cream off her thumb and smirks wickedly. "A few more months and you'll be done with counting calories and weigh-ins." She shoves the rest of the pastry in her mouth and brushes crumbs off her palm, mumbling around her chews, "Unless you decide to wrestle at Penn State."

"What was that?" He furrows his brows playfully and pretends he couldn't understand her. She swallows and swats at him. He laughs and grabs her hand, trapping it in his strong grip, letting his fingers climb her wrist to slip beneath the sleeve of her shirt and travel up to the crook of her elbow where he knows she's ticklish.

"Stop, Peeta! Let go!"

The chimes near the door tinkle and Peeta glances up, smiling brightly when he sees Bristel standing there, the door swinging closed behind her. "Hey you," he calls warmly.

Katniss swivels on her seat, and when he sees Bristel's eyes flit to where he clutches Katniss's arm, he immediately drops it. Bristel flips her wet blonde hair over her shoulder and crosses to the counter, dropping her gym bag, and she leans up over the glass to press a very rough kiss to his lips. "Hi."

"How was swim practice?"

"Boring. I'll be glad when the school swim season ends in a few weeks and I can focus on the "Y" one," she replies, cutting her eyes towards Katniss, who has busied herself playing with the wax paper beside the register. Bristel reaches for his hand and gives him a coy smile. "Where are you taking me for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, you can pick a place." He glances up at the clock. "I've only got a few more minutes before my dad gets back and I can leave."

Katniss coughs quietly and shoves the roll of wax paper back to its place. "I should go, Peeta." She gives Bristel a polite smile. "Have a nice dinner."

Bristel nods coolly and smiles. "Thanks, we will."

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Peeta asks, and Katniss hauls her messenger bag up on her shoulder and nods.

"I wouldn't miss it." She gives a little wave and pushes through the bakery door.

"So where would you like to go tonight?" he asks, turning his attention to Bristel. She leans on her elbows, grabbing a fistful of his polo and drawing him down to slant his mouth over her eager lips. When she breaks the kiss, she gives him a sly smile.

"We could just go back to my house. My parents went to visit my grandmother at the nursing home and won't be back til later." She circles her index finger around on the back of his palm. "You can't eat much anyway."

"Yeah, don't remind me. I'm starving." He can't wait for tomorrow's wrestling meet to be over so he can indulge in a massive plate of pasta and garlic bread and go back to eating normally for a few days.

"We could just pick something up," she adds, running her index finger along his arm, her nail raising goose bumps in its wake.

Peeta exhales softly and gives her a tight smile. He likes Bristel, he really does. And he's not an idiot; he knows she's implying that an empty house means she wants to fool around. They've been dating for three months now, and while there's been a lot of groping, both over and under the clothes, they have yet to have sex—though she's bluntly told him that she's not a virgin and she has not been shy with her suggestive comments. He's the one holding back.

"I shouldn't, Bristel," he begins gently, "I have to get up really early for the meet tomorrow. The school is like an hour and a half from here. We'll need to leave by six." He pauses. "Which reminds me, if you want, you can ride with my parents."

Bristel withdraws her hands and folds them on the counter, her eyes suddenly serious and her lips set in a thin line. "Is Katniss going with them?"

"What? No." He shakes his head. "She's never ridden with my parents. Once or twice she hitched a ride with Rye, but with him at school, she usually drives herself. Why?"

"Does she go to all your meets?"

He furrows his brows. There's something in her tone that reeks of jealousy, and his stomach turns uneasily. "Ah, usually. She's my best friend. She's been coming to games and meets since we were in middle school." He leans back against the rear counter, putting some distance between where she sits and him. "Why do you care?" he asks slowly.

She puffs out her cheeks and huffs softly. "I'm your girlfriend now, Peeta. Does she really need to be there too?"

"Bristel, I…" He struggles to find the right words; he is dumbstruck that she would actually voice such a suggestion no matter how insecure Katniss makes her feel. He walks a precarious line between his loyalty to Katniss and his commitment to Bristel. He crosses to her and gently takes her hands in his. "You have nothing to worry about with Katniss, you know."

Bristel sniffs and her eyes narrow. "I'm just getting tired of her always being around, Peeta. We're together. I can be your cheerleader now."

"It's not a competition, Bristel." He sighs. "You know Katniss was the one who gave me the nudge to even go out with you."

"I find that hard to believe. She's always giving you these looks, and you guys are always touching and laughing." She continues rambling about all the things about Katniss that bother her and while he listens attentively, his heart sinks with just how much animosity his girlfriend harbors for his best friend. So much for thinking the girls could ever forge a friendship of their own. "And so, forgive me, Peeta," she finishes, "if I don't want her around very much. Anyone else would just assume _she's_ your girlfriend."

Most of what she says is irrational jealousy, but the shimmering at the corners of her eyes confirms that Bristel sincerely feels threatened by Katniss. He closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them, he brushes her hair back from her face and tucks it behind her ear. "I'll talk to her, okay? Go home and get ready. We'll go somewhere nice. I'll be at your house by seven."

She nods and swallows and gives him a lingering, needy kiss, her tongue sweeping through his mouth urgently. "Thank you." She hops off the stool, gives him a bright smile and strolls out of the bakery.

Once he knows she's gone, he thumps his forehead against the counter and as he straightens up again, he rubs at his temples. What a fucking mess. He knows the right thing to do would be to drive by Katniss's house and have a heart to heart with her in person, but the cowardly side of him just doesn't want to see any hurt in those quicksilver eyes—at least, he hopes she'd be hurt. He sighs. That sounds so fucking selfish.

When his dad returns and tells him he's free to go, Peeta sits in the front seat of his car and stares at his phone, a new message to Katniss glaring back at him.

_Peeta: hey so…would you be upset if I asked you to skip my meet tomorrow? _

His thumb hovers above the 'send' button, his stomach churning. Katniss will understand, right? It's just one meet. Heaving a prolonged sigh, he presses 'send' and waits. After three minutes and no response, the churning grows to a tsunami cresting through his gut. Two more minutes and he starts the car and drives home, his head a foggy, muddled mess.

He's just stepped out of the shower and is vigorously rubbing a towel over his wet hair when he hears his phone ping. Hastily, he wraps the towel around his waist and runs into his room, leaving a wet trail behind him.

_Katniss: sorry I just saw this. I guess not. _

His face breaks into a relieved smile, but before he can answer her, a second message pops up.

_Katniss: why?_

He adjusts the towel as it slips down and closes his eyes. Why? She had to ask. Of course she'd ask. It wouldn't have been as easy as her just saying 'yeah' and leaving it at that. But he's always been honest with Katniss, and so he tells her the truth.

_Peeta: Bristel asked me to ask you not to go to this one. _

He begins to type out a huge, long explanation, but then deletes it—if she wants more, she'll ask for it.

_Katniss: ok. well good luck then. Not that you need it ;) _

_Katniss: have a nice date tonite_

A wistful smile tugs at his lips as he writes back, tells her she's the best and he'll text her after the meet.

This time, she never replies.

* * *

The next afternoon when he pins his opponent after a tough fought match and wins his weight class, he feels a tug of regret at his heart, chased away by a wave of guilt, when his eyes search the crowd, instinctively looking for Katniss, and he only sees Bristel's beaming face, clapping enthusiastically beside his parents and Thresh and Thom and Delly.

And he feels even guiltier when he realizes later that night he never texted Katniss to tell her the results. His parents had insisted on taking him and Bristel out to celebrate, and when he drove her home after the indulgent hibachi dinner, she had blown him right in her driveway. Her eyes swam with disappointment when he declined coming inside, but he made sure to return the favor and slip his hand inside her jeans to get her off before he kissed her goodbye.

So it's nearly midnight before he can finally shoot Katniss a text to tell her his good news. He thanks her again for understanding, and as an afterthought, he adds that he missed her. Then he lies awake in bed, waiting for an answer that never comes.

The next morning he's back at his parents' bakery, rolling out dough for another batch of cinnamon rolls. He only has to work til noon on Sundays, which is good today because he has a shitload of homework that he has yet to start. When he glances up at the tolling bell, his heart lifts at the sight of Katniss standing in the doorway.

"Hi," she says. "I was on my way to work and I thought I'd drop this off." She holds up a white plastic bag that dangles from the tips of her fingers, and he grins and shakes his head. After a big match or meet, Katniss has always gorged with him the next day.

"You didn't have to do this," he replies as she approaches the counter and sets it down. He peers into the bag and his stomach growls in anticipation when he catches a whiff of warm, corned beef and sees a huge bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.

She shrugs and plays with the fringe on the end of her scarf. "Congrats on your win yesterday. Was it a good match?"

He nods and starts to recap it for her when his phone rings. He gives Katniss an apologetic smile and holds up a finger as he answers the call. Katniss's eyes stay fixed on his as he begins talking to Bristel.

"I've got to go to the theater, Peeta," she whispers, wiggling her fingers at him as she turns to leave.

"Bristel, hang on a sec." He places his hand over the bottom of his phone and gives Katniss a smile. "Thank you again." She nods and a weak smile raises one side of her mouth when he waves and resumes his conversation with his girlfriend.

* * *

"Shit, Marvel, is this all your fucking mom has in the house?" Cato makes a face at the Mike's Pomegranate Lemonade lined up in neat rows on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.

"Deal with it."

"I knew we shoulda had Finnick make a beer run with us before he went back to school after his spring break. His fake ID is a thousand times better than any of ours."

"We can take a night off from drinking when we hang out, you know," Thresh adds over his shoulder. "Fuck!" he yells as Katniss lands an upper cut on his Yoshimitsu. Katniss smirks and sticks her tongue out at him. "This is the last time I play _Tekken_ with you, Everdeen."

"Stop crying," she shoots back. "Peeta doesn't bitch this much when I kick his ass all the time." She slides her eyes at him and gives him a look. "Or when I used to, anyway."

Peeta shakes his head at her, and in response, she twists her body on the couch and straightens her legs so they're across his lap and she playfully kicks at him, mimicking one of the moves she just used on the screen. Thresh darts a look at them and attempts to get his character to body slam the shapely female that Katniss always uses in the street-fighting game.

Cato twists off the cap of his Mike's and makes a face as he swishes it around in his mouth. "Why didn't we go to Finnick's beach house this weekend?"

"Because, dumbass, Finnick is in Maryland," Marvel retorts.

"And maybe because it's fucking March and there's snow on the ground?" Thom adds with a snort.

"Annie's around," Cato replies darkly, flopping into the chair across from the couch.

"That doesn't make it okay, moron. It's his dad's place."

"Where is Annie?" Katniss asks. "I thought she was coming."

"She'll be here. She was right behind me with Bristel," Delly calls as she tromps down the basement stairs bearing three large pizza boxes.

"Fuck it, I'm done with you!" Thresh yells, throwing the PlayStation controller to the ground as Katniss defeats him yet again.

"Hey guys." Annie appears at the foot of the staircase with Bristel at her side. Peeta feels her accusatory eyes on him immediately, and he gives his girlfriend a smile, which quickly melts into a grimace when Katniss moves and her heel digs into his groin. He gives her a look and she quickly apologizes as she swings her legs down from his lap, sets down her controller and walks off to get pizza.

Peeta is about to do the same thing when Bristel strides towards him, flashes a grin at him and leans down to capture his lips in a kiss. "Hi."

"Hi," he murmurs back as she settles next to him in Katniss's vacated seat and nuzzles into his side.

"Did you get your paper done?" she asks, and he nods, having worked all afternoon on his _The Sound and the Fury _essay for AP English.

"Here." He glances up from his conversation with Bristel and sees a white paper plate directly in front of his face, two greasy slices of pepperoni pizza on it. Smiling at Katniss, he accepts the plate. "Bristel?" Katniss asks. She holds out a second plate. Bristel's nose wrinkles and she leans her head against Peeta's shoulder.

"No. Ick. That's swimming in grease, and it's fattening." Peeta glares down at her in surprise because she doesn't even acknowledge Katniss's nice gesture, and before he can tell Katniss that he'll scoot over, her grey eyes turn steely and she takes the plate to settle cross-legged on the floor beneath the other couch where Brutus, Delly and Thom are sitting. Brutus offers to give up his seat to her, but Katniss replies that she's fine where she is and plucks off an unwanted piece of pepperoni and sets it on the side of her plate. She usually gives it to him.

After everyone's eaten and Katniss has claimed Thom as another victim in the video game, Cato proposes Quarters and is met with a chorus of groans.

"We could play 'Never Have I Ever,'" Bristel pipes up.

Cato snorts. "Isn't that something chicks play at slumber parties?"

"No. It's a drinking game," Bristel replies. She begins to explain the rules, but Katniss coughs.

"We all know how to play," she says. "We just don't play it very much."

"I think it sounds great!" Annie enthuses. "Who needs a drink?"

Once everyone has a beverage in hand—Thom found a row of cans of Miller Lite behind the Mike's, much to the guys' relief—Bristel summarizes the game, which consists of each person taking turns making statements of things they have never done, and anyone who actually has done the thing in question must drink.

"Me first!" Delly raises her lemonade and giggles. "Never have I ever been drunk." She's met with loud arguments and nearly everyone else takes a sip from their drinks. "It's true!" she insists. "I have a really high tolerance and I've been tipsy but…"

"Wait til college," Thom laughs and she elbows him.

"Okay, I'll go next. Never I have ever cheated on a test," Bristel declares, and Peeta glances over at Katniss. She lowers her eyes as she takes a sip from her Mike's. He knows the circumstances well—it was his test she cheated off of, and it was right after her father had left. She had been so upset that week that she had completely forgotten about a big social studies exam on the American Revolution. Technically it had been his idea, so he gives her a small smile of reassurance and swigs from his can in solidarity.

The game proceeds pretty innocently enough, until Cato raises the stakes. "Never have I ever been with two girls at once."

Eyes roll as no one drinks, and Thresh snorts. "That's a stupid one, man. You need to stop watching so much porn. The real world is gonna disappoint you something harsh."

Cato grins maliciously. "A guy can hope, right? One of my goals for college." But the statement achieves its purpose of turning the game down a different path.

Delly clears her throat and takes a deep breath. "Never have I ever had sex."

Marvel and Cato make a big production of drinking from their beer cans, but when Annie discreetly puts her bottle to her lips, they both spit out the beer they were sipping, spraying white foam everywhere. "Are you fucking kidding? Finn finally sealed the deal?" Cato crows. "When did this happen?" Annie's cheeks color a furious red and they both begin firing questions at Annie rapidly.

Peeta casually plays with his beer can before raising it to his mouth, hoping most of his friends are sufficiently floored by Delly's confession and Annie's telling sip that she and Finnick have finally slept together to notice that he's also drinking. Beside him, he sees Bristel's bottle lift to her lips as well. Katniss stares down at her half-empty bottle and when Peeta peers at her, he waits expectantly for her to take a pull from it. She avoids his eyes and picks at the label idly.

He tries to convince himself that she does it so as not to raise any suspicion, which he knows very well could be the case, especially since Katniss has never had a boyfriend and their friends would probably jump all over her, but the lie only serves to cause the memory of her naked beneath him bobbing to the surface of his forethought.

"Pause the game," Marvel announces. "I'm going to go get some chips and stuff. I'm fucking hungry again." Delly leaps up and offers to help.

Bristel leans up and presses her lips to Peeta's neck, jarring him from his reverie. "Never have I ever had a guy get me off with his mouth," she whispers, running her palm over his knee. He coughs violently on his mouthful of beer and she giggles, sipping her own drink again. "We might have to try that later tonight, mmm? See if you can do what my ex couldn't?" Her hand climbs higher up his leg, rubbing the denim as it inches towards his crotch.

"Bristel, easy," he warns. "My friends are all right here." He glances over at Katniss, but she's engrossed in unwinding her braid and finger-combing the waves.

"Relax," she breathes back. She squeezes his upper thigh. "I'm empty." She wiggles the bottle in his face. "I'm going to get another before we start playing again. You need one?"

"No, I should stop if I'm going to be able to drive you home later."

"Okay." She grins and hops to her feet, swaying slightly, and he mentally tallies the number of drinks she's had. It's at least three or four by his count.

His eyes wander back to Katniss, who is now leaning up and chatting with Thom. He grins down at her and Katniss laughs, gesturing wildly with her hand before she motions to her neck and rubs it absently. Thom says something as he bends down and Peeta nearly spills what's left of his beer when he sees Thom's hand knead at Katniss's shoulder a few times. She smiles when he removes his hand and they both laugh quietly.

Peeta frowns. The scene looks entirely innocent enough, probably sore muscles from working at the movie theater, but he can't recall ever seeing another guy's hands anywhere on Katniss's body. He's certainly agonized plenty over Darius and Gale's interest in her in the past, but he's never had to witness either directly. And innocent or not, he doesn't like it.

When Katniss looks over at him, she jokingly sticks her tongue out at him, tipping her head back to drain the rest of her hard lemonade. He motions to the seat on the opposite side of the couch from him that Annie vacated, but she shakes her head and scrambles to her feet, disappearing into the kitchen.

It can't be more than sixty seconds later when he hears Bristel's voice screech, "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

Peeta vaults to his feet and rushes into the kitchen. Bristel's eyes are narrowed, daggers aimed right at Katniss, who stands by the rear door, arms folded across her chest, a defiant look in her grey irises.

"What's going on?" he asks cautiously, and Katniss drops her gaze, her nostrils flaring.

Bristel glares at him and points at Katniss. "Ask your _best friend_ what she just said to me."

Katniss flips her braid over her shoulder and shrugs dismissively. "I didn't—"

Bristel cuts her off before Katniss can get out an explanation. "_She _told me to watch it with the drinks and made some snotty comment about calories and alcohol and me getting fat."

"I never said anything about you getting fat," Katniss retorts. "But you made such a big deal about that pizza earlier that I thought you should know putting away six or seven malt beverages is way worse than one little slice of pizza."

Peeta sucks in a measured breath. Bristel is hypersensitive about her weight. She's by no means big, and she burns a lot of calories during swim season, but she's got a much more solid frame than someone like Katniss, who can eat whatever she wants and never have to worry. He's also noticed Bristel tends to pick at food when they're at restaurants and she rarely touches the junk food that is always set out at parties.

The pointed look that his girlfriend gives him makes no mistake what she expects Peeta to do about the situation. He sighs and braces himself for how he can possibly try to ameliorate this.

But that's when Katniss decides to cement it for him. "Besides, shouldn't you save some room for Peeta's dick later on? Cum isn't calorie free, you know."

"Outside, now!" he yells at her, opening the door and dragging Katniss into the bitter night. He yanks her by the arm around the side of Marvel's house to stand on the driveway. The automatic lights above the garage door flash on, and he lets go of her sweater, narrowing his eyes at her. "What the fuck was that?"

Her breath escapes her mouth in frigid white puffs, lingering in the icy air as she shivers in front of him. "What?" she coughs out, teeth chattering.

"Did you really just say that to her?"

"I don't really remember what I said," she replies evasively.

"I was standing right there, Katniss! I heard the second one. You had no business saying that! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She kicks at a vacant urn near the garage door, sending a spray of snow tumbling off the top. "I don't know. But you can't tell me that you're not going to go home with her later and your dick won't be in her mouth. I was merely stating a fact."

"What's your problem tonight? Is it Bristel?" She digs the toe of her boot into a small snowdrift and makes a face. He sighs exasperatedly. "Can I please remind you that you are the one who told me to go for it, to see where things could go with her?" In the harsh glare of the floodlight above the garage, he thinks he sees her eyes flicker. "Or do you not remember the morning after that Halloween party at Finn's frat—?"

"I remember," she says sullenly. "But she started it, Peeta. She's hated me since the first day Annie introduced us all."

When a particularly bitter gust of wind whistles past them, he realizes how stupid it was to force her outside in the dead of night in winter, but his anger had gotten the best of him. She shivers violently. "I've tried," she continues, the click of her teeth punctuating each word. "I've tried to be nice to her. I really have." Her nostrils flare, and he knows she's close to tears now. Katniss doesn't cry easily.

"Fuck, Katniss, I'm sorry. Come here." He holds his arms out, and numbly, she walks into them, and he holds her against him, his hand rubbing circles on her back. "I know."

"Your girlfriend shouldn't hate me. I don't want her to hate me."

"She doesn't hate you."

"She does." She trembles against him, and he hugs her tighter. "And I just want you happy, Peeta. But I feel like I'm losing you."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," he sighs. "You'll never lose me, Katniss."

She glances up at him, and there's another subtle twitch of her nose and suddenly he swallows and for no good reason other than the slight buzz in his veins and the fact that he was thinking about having sex with her just a little while ago, he descends on her lips and grazes them with his mouth. They're cool to the touch, but her tongue is not when she whimpers softly and slips it past his teeth. She links her arms around his neck and his slides his hands underneath the hem of her sweater, his hands splaying over the heated skin of her back as he continues to explore her mouth, the kiss rekindling the feelings that he's been trying so hard to ignore since he started dating Bristel.

But Katniss wrenches her lips off of his first, stumbling back, and her smoky grey eyes widen in shock. "Peeta…we can't...I can't…your girlfriend…"

"I know," he replies, the absence of her lips on him already leaving him colder than the bitter winter air as guilt flurries through him. "I'm sorry." And really, he's not sure what he's sorrier for: that he kissed Katniss, or that he _wanted_ to kiss her, or that he thinks he'd do it again if he thought he could get away with it. He's a shitty boyfriend for thinking that last part especially.

She nods mutely, her fingers fluttering over her lips. Finally she says, "If I could drive right now, I'd just go." She hugs herself tightly. Frosty white clouds pipe from her mouth as she breathes heavily. "You go back inside first. I'm sure Bristel is cursing my name right now and you can talk to her before I come back in." She slumps against the garage door and continues to shiver.

"But you're freezing," he says softly, and she waves at him dismissively.

"I'll be fine."

He sighs and turns to head back around the corner of the garage. "Peeta?" she calls. "You meant that? I'll never lose you, right? No matter who you're dating, you'll always have time for me?" Her quivering mouth lifts into a hopeful smile.

Nodding, he replies, "Always, Katniss. Always."

* * *

_Thank you for reading, and again thanks for all the love and support. ~C_


	8. Chapter 7-The Door's Unlocked

_**Author's Note-**Additional musical inspiration for this chapter..._

_Now...Blake Shelton's "Mine Would Be You" and Dierks Bentley's "Settle for a Slowdown" (thanks for the feels, Pook!)_

_Then...Hunter Hayes' "Wanted"_

_Rest of notes to follow..._

* * *

_The Door's Unlocked_

~_Now~_

_(26 years old)_

* * *

His head is only mildly throbbing when the alarm goes off the next morning, but when he rolls his shoulders and stretches, his arm finds purchase with nothing but air, landing on soft cotton. Opening his eyes, he sighs and curses at himself for the profound sorrow that surges through him at the sight of the empty bed. He listens for the hiss of the shower, or the near silent footfalls of her outside his bedroom, but the only sound is the incessant chirping of the early rising birds from the open window.

He flops back against the bed and snatches the pillow where Katniss's head had been when he fell asleep with her safely ensconced in his arms last night. Holding the mound to his face, he lets out a cathartic yell and then launches it across the room, where it smacks into the side of his dresser and falls to the floor with a soft plop.

Of course she's gone. Why did he think this time would be any different—just because she waited a few more hours to pull her stealthy disappearing act? Would it have killed her to wake him up before she slipped from his bed and took off like she always does? He laughs bitterly as his feet land on the cold hardwood floor and he stomps out into the living room to affirm his suspicions. The quiet gurgle of the coffee maker brewing into his travel mug does nothing to assuage his frayed patience. She can start a fucking coffee maker, but she can't give him a godamn kiss goodbye?

His mood spirals further into self-pity as he steps into the shower and his eyes land on the bottle of shampoo that she keeps there. With a snarl, he grabs the bottle, unscrews the cap and tilts it over, watching with perverse satisfaction as the pearlescent substance mingles with the soapy water and eddies down the drain. But the sweet scent of coconut fills the shower stall, tormenting him anew.

Once he's dressed, he heads into the kitchen to pack something for lunch and prepare his coffee. As he's opening a cabinet to pull out some crackers, a bag of Gummi bears tumbles out and spills all over the counter. Fucking figures. The multi-colored, translucent bears speckle the Formica and mock him. A disdainful snort erupts from his throat as he plucks the candies up one by one and flicks them into the trash, crumpling the bag and tossing it too.

Peeta has always prided himself on being even-tempered and cool, but it takes a concerted effort not to swear at every other driver on the road on his way to work and to not let his acrimonious disposition affect his teaching all morning. He even remains relatively calm when more than half the seniors in his Theory and Composition class don't have their assignments. He's relieved when the bell rings that signals his lunch period and he can close the door and dim the lights and eat in silence.

As he eats his yogurt, he finally checks his phone. The red notification bubble displays a 'six' on the message icon, and he frowns when he taps it and sees all of them are from Katniss.

_Katniss: last nite was amazing. :) hope youre having a great day_

Last night _was_ amazing, Katniss, he thinks bitterly. What is not amazing is how shitty it felt to wake up alone this morning. And thus, his day is _not_ great, and really, that's her fault.

He immediately erases the message.

The remaining five messages are all photos; Katniss has sent him four pictures of Prim receiving her diploma, and one of her sister beaming with her arms wrapped around Rory. He smiles sadly as he scrolls through them a second time. Prim really has been like little sister to him through the years, and he feels a sharp twinge of regret that he isn't there for her. He'll have to find some way to get her the card and gift that he got.

He can't help but wonder how Katniss is faring being in the presence of her father again. The best friend in him wants to pick up the phone and call her, check in on her, reassure her that she's the strongest person he knows and he's proud of her.

But the shunned lover in him won't let him. This morning was the final straw.

The rest of the afternoon drags on, and Peeta hears his phone buzzing a few times from its position on his ink blotter. In between his seventh and eighth period classes, he peeks at the screen and sees a missed call from Katniss, and surprisingly, a voicemail. There's another missed call, though, this one from Madge. She too left a voicemail.

When the last bell of the day rings, he heads to his desk and picks up his phone, bringing up his messages and bypassing Katniss's, he taps Madge's voicemail instead.

He closes his eyes and listens, contemplating her words as she speaks confidently and clearly, not at all like the usual halting, awkward manner most people tend to slip into when leaving a voicemail. When the message ends, he deletes it and sets down his phone, rubbing roughly at his temples as he reclines in his desk chair.

Her confession from yesterday hovers in the forefront of his mind like a poltergeist. He exhales and closes his eyes briefly.

And then he picks up the phone.

* * *

After school, he swings by the tux shop and picks up his suit for the wedding. It's not as quick of a stop as he would have liked thanks to an overly chatty older saleswoman who prattles on about how dashing Mr. Odair's bridal party is and how she wishes her granddaughter was just a few years older with so many handsome young men in this town. And then when she learns Peeta was a teacher, she gushes about how she used to be a teacher, and it's nearly five by the time Peeta exits the shop to head home.

He sees Gale Hawthorne pulling into a parking space a few down from his, and he hastily walks to his car to avoid Katniss's old friend. He's really not in the mood for any more small talk, especially not with Gale. Katniss would inevitably become the topic of conversation. Peeta gives a quick glance in the rearview mirror as he drives out of the lot and sees Gale holding hands with his fiancé as they approach the tux shop. Gale's nuptials next weekend is not something Peeta wants to think about at the moment either. He's beginning to feel like Katniss—all this wedding crap is starting to get under his skin.

He grades a few papers and straightens up when he gets home, and at six-thirty, he orders a pizza that arrives ten minutes before the second soft knock on the door.

"Hi!" She greets him with a bright smile and a hug, winding her arms around his waist and he wonders if it's his imagination that her blonde hair smells like coconuts too, or if Katniss is just that ingrained in his senses.

"You look nice," he says, and Madge glances down at her blue peasant blouse and capri pants and smiles again.

"Thanks." She sets her purse and the movies down on the small table beside his apartment door and wanders around. "This is a really great place."

"Ah, thanks." He cringes as she approaches a shelving unit with several framed photos—all of which include Katniss in some respect, even the one where she's holding his newborn nephew as he sits beside her, leaning over her shoulder. To a casual observer, they'd appear like doting new parents. He hopes Madge doesn't study the pictures too carefully. "I'm actually hoping to start looking for a condo or a small house next spring."

"Oh there are a ton of units for sale in the area where I just moved," she says enthusiastically. "And the realtor my father had recommended is really good and not nearly as pushy as I thought she'd be. I'll gladly give you her card."

"I'll let you know when I'm ready, thanks," he replies politely. "Did you want some pizza?"

"Oh, sure. Just a slice though."

He lifts two slices out of the box, sending a rope of steam curling from it, and sets both onto plates. "Something to drink? I've got cabernet and I've got some kind of chardonnay-Pinot Grigio hybrid. Your choice." He holds up both bottles and waggles them in Madge's direction.

"Oh you can choose. I'm not really particular when it comes to wine. I like red or white, whichever you have open," she says with a smile, kicking off her heels and tucking her feet beneath her on the couch.

He considers the wines again and shrugs. They've been left at his place by Katniss (who isn't a wine drinker, and both bottles wound up in her possession by way of the annual Christmas party at the municipal building) and he has no way of knowing if either of them is particularly good. "Well neither is open. And I don't drink much wine so I'm not the best person to ask for advice." He supposes he could suck it up and imbibe in a glass with her as much as he prefers a cold Yuengling when he's watching a movie at home.

"Oh, I don't need wine," she blurts out, her blue eyes widening. "Whatever else you have is good."

He laughs. "Well if I remember correctly you don't like beer, and that's all that I have unless you want to dip into the hard liquor." Except for the Southern Comfort. There's little more than a swig left in there, and he pushes away the memory of Katniss in his arms last night as they shared sips from the bottle. "And we both have to work tomorrow," he adds.

"Yeah, I guess. But I only have two schools to hit and the first appointment isn't until eleven-thirty. I could technically just be getting up by the time your day is half over," she teases.

"Please," he scoffs back, biting the bullet and shoving a corkscrew into the bottle of cabernet. "I can easily take a nap in the faculty lounge during fourth since it's my duty period."

"Touché," she laughs. Then she pauses. "Wait, you're kidding right?"

He nods and retrieves two tumblers from the cabinet, pouring the red wine into each. "I make it a point not to sleep at school." Crossing the small kitchen and padding into the living room, he extends one glass to Madge with an apologetic half-smile. "Sorry I don't have any real wine glasses." He only ever had two to begin with, and they were broken on a night when he and Katniss had shared a rare bottle of wine with the Chicken Cacciatore he had made. They had gotten a little overzealous and in his haste to take her on the kitchen table, his arm had swept the glasses to the floor. He never bothered to replace them.

"It all tastes the same," she replies, raising her tumbler to clink against his. "Cheers."

"Cheers," he echoes and takes a small sip of his drink, trying to hide his disdain for the tart, dry taste of the cabernet as it spreads on his tongue. He swallows and immediately yearns for the cold beer sitting on the second shelf of his refrigerator door.

"So I just grabbed two new releases from the Red Box," Madge declares as they settle on his couch with their pizza and wine. "I don't know what kind of movies you prefer so I got one action and one comedy."

He scans the titles and realizes he's seen both of them already—well, that's not entirely true. He and Katniss had watched one of them a few weeks ago, but they had only made it about twenty minutes in before she was on her knees in front of him, sucking him off. It never ceases to amaze him how much she enjoys giving him head and how eagerly she does it. Add that to the list of things he's going to miss.

"Peeta?" Madge's voice interrupts his reverie and he reaches for his pizza to play off his distractedness.

"Either one is good; you pick," he replies diplomatically. She studies them and hands him the comedy, and as the movie begins, they eat quietly until Peeta gathers up the empty plates and returns with the wine bottle to top off Madge's glass, opting not to refill his own. When he sits back down beside Madge, she sidles up next to him and casually curls against his side. He's a little taken aback at her brazenness at first, but the warmth of her against him is oddly comforting.

The movie is about a third of the way through when his phone chirps from the coffee table. In spite of her blonde head resting on his shoulder, Madge's eyes are trained on the television screen, and he contemplates the etiquette of reaching for it but decides against it. It pings again a few moments later, but he knows it's the same message having been ignored the first time.

"You can look at that if you need to," she says.

"I'm just going to turn it off." He picks up his iPhone and looks discreetly at the screen, bracing himself for Katniss's name to be there, but it's a message from one of his colleagues asking him about an end of the year gift collection for the janitor. Nothing that can't wait til later. He flicks the phone to silent.

Madge nestles against him again as he adjusts his position on the couch, and her hand splays across his thigh as they get comfortable once more. Her blouse slips off her shoulder just a bit, and her pale blue bra strap peeks out. Peeta averts his gaze, but his traitorous mind wanders right to the visual of Katniss in that sexy bustier, the intricate lace cups barely containing her breasts.

And of course as he starts picturing her wearing the provocative lingerie, the rest of him begins to respond to the vivid memory of making love to her last night. The words roll around on his tongue like a pinball—making love. He could rarely assign such a term to his and Katniss's other recent sexual exploits, but the unhurried, gentle explorations of their hands, her ardent whispers and moans of his name and the fusing together of their bodies twenty-four hours ago could not really be described as anything but. It's certainly why her unspoken exit from his bed stung even worse.

Madge's hand on his knee finally jars him from his self-imposed torture. She gives him a hesitant smile and casually rests her head on his shoulder. There can't be more than fifteen or twenty minutes left in the movie, and suddenly there is a soft knock on his apartment door. His gut tightens and his pulse stutters.

Madge lifts herself up and stares at him expectantly. "Who's at your door this late at night?"

He rakes a hand through his hair nervously, extricating his leg from underneath hers, but before he can answer her or further distance himself on the couch, the door opens, and he hears Katniss's voice. "Peeta? Hey, I'm glad you're still awake. I—" She stops cold as he turns to meet her eyes from where she stands in the doorway, a bottle of Southern Comfort in her hand. She's clearly still dressed from Prim's graduation, wearing a long, flowing maxi dress, and with her hair in loose waves, she looks effortlessly beautiful.

But she recoils as her eyes flit to Madge, her face morphing into mask of horror and unmistakable pain. "Oh. Oh," she repeats. "I'm sorry. I had no idea I was interrupting anything. I'll…I'll just leave this and go. I'm sorry." She rushes to put the bottle on his kitchen counter.

She pivots on her heel and all he sees is a curtain of black as she bolts from his apartment. He shifts his eyes to Madge, who sits motionless on the couch. "Madge, I…" He shakes his head and swallows. "I'll be right back."

His feet feel like concrete blocks as he races down the corridor and practically leaps down the stairs, two—sometimes three—at a time. Pushing open the heavy door to the complex, he sees her standing by her car, fumbling with her keys, struggling to unlock the door.

"Katniss," he calls, jogging across the small lot. She doesn't look up so he quickens his pace and reaches her just as she gets the door open. He places a hand on the window and slams the door shut, grasping her palm in his.

"I'm sorry, Peeta." She keeps her head down and her body facing her vehicle. "I…I…I never would have stopped in if I knew you were with someone."

"Why did you?"

"Why did I what?"

He sighs and turns her around, his hand now gripping her elbow, and she seems to be trembling. In the meager light spilling from the streetlamps around the parking lot, it also looks like her eyes glimmer with unshed tears. "Why did you come by without calling?"

She emits a little noise that he can't place as a hiccup or a snort or a whimper. "You've always told me I can come by anytime, Peeta. I didn't realize that had changed."

"You usually call," he replies flatly. It's true; for years he's been telling her she can stop in whenever. It's Katniss who has always done him the courtesy of a text or a call—especially in the middle of the night. He's come to expect it.

"I did call. I called you earlier today and left a message about you joining me for dinner with Gale and Johanna and Hazelle. Then I called about twenty minutes ago." She swallows, the delicate cords of her throat straining. "I just figured maybe you were in the shower." Lowering her eyes, she continues, "I had no idea you had a date." Her voice catches on the last sentence.

He tugs back his arm, releasing her, and shoves his hand in his pocket and steels his gaze on her. "Well you left without saying goodbye this morning so there wasn't really much of a chance for me to tell you, was there?"

Her nostrils flare and she scuffs the toe of her strappy sandals against the asphalt idly. "I thought…" But she lets the words trail off and she looks off into the distance, avoiding his eyes. "Tell Madge I'm sorry. I just wanted to...I just wanted to replace the stuff I drank last night and tell you that, um, you were right. I handled my dad today and it's done and over with. He knows how I feel and now it's Prim's problem if she wants to let him into her life again. So thanks. And thanks for always believing in me. And I'm sorry for barging in. Again." She opens the door, slips inside her car and the engine roars to life. "I won't do it anymore."

"Katniss," he starts, and she stares at him through the open car window. Conflicting emotions ebb and flow and crash through him. There are a hundred things he wants to confront her with…everything from how long he's loved her and how happy she makes him when she's in his arms but how fucked up it is that they're still doing this toxic tango after ten years…and how if she had just said those three little words once—just once— he'd already be hers.

The thoughts keep swirling and flinging themselves at him, but he can't grasp hold of any one thing that he can say that he won't regret. She glances up at him expectantly, grey eyes glistening, and he rubs the back of his neck. "I'll see you at the rehearsal tomorrow," he finishes.

Her teeth trap her lower lip as she nods curtly and backs out of the parking space. As her car peels out of the lot, he watches until the taillights are little more than ruby flecks in the dusky sky.

Madge eyes him when he trudges back into to his apartment and slumps onto the couch. She remains quiet, and he notices she's paused the movie and refilled her wine glass. The silence festers, and Peeta knows he owes her an explanation. "Sorry," he begins. "And Katniss said to tell you she's sorry too. She was embarrassed that she interrupted. I just had to ask her how Prim's graduation went."

"Oh! Prim graduated today? Isn't it a little early for a high school graduation?"

"College," Peeta corrects, "Temple."

"Oh my gosh!" Madge covers her mouth in shock. "Prim Everdeen is graduating college? Shit, when did we get so old?"

Peeta laughs; the humor of the situation is just what he needs to deflect the uncomfortable tension that cropped up from Katniss's intrusion, and he hopes that Madge will just drop the whole thing.

"Does she just show up at your place like this a lot?" Madge runs her finger along the rim of the wine glass and glances up at him from under a fringe of blonde bangs. "Katniss, I mean."

"Ah, no, not really." He pauses. _Drop it, Madge_, he implores her silently. _Drop it._

"She just walked right in. Is that normal for you two?"

_Yes. No._ Peeta sighs. How can he phrase this delicately? "We've been friends so long that I guess we kind of don't have boundaries."

Madge sips her wine again and licks her lips. "Has that bothered the women you've dated?"

"Ah…" He scratches at the back of his neck and considers the question. Has it? His last relationship ended over a year ago, and he really can't recall if Cressida ever voiced any issues with Katniss. (What he does recall was her repeated insistence that she needed more than Panem could offer and the day after they had broken up, her Facebook location suddenly read 'Los Angeles, CA.') "Not really. I'm up front with how much Katniss means to me, and that she's a huge part of my life. A woman who is threatened by that isn't one that I want to be with."

"She looked upset."

"She was a little upset, yeah," he replies simply, pressing 'play' on the remote again, hoping it's enough to finally silence her.

"At me?" Madge arches a brow at him, and he thinks he sees hope flickering in her blue eyes. "I mean at us? Because she seemed surprised too. She's never walked in on you with another woman before? If she just goes around barging in on you…" Her hand finds its way back to his knee, but it doesn't stop there. Her palm climbs a few inches on his thigh, and her eyes sparkle dangerously.

Peeta sighs again, exasperation mounting. "No, she doesn't," he repeats emphatically. "And she's fine. It's nothing, really, Madge. Let's not talk about Katniss anymore, okay. Let's finish the movie. It's getting late."

"Okay," she agrees, squeezing his leg and turning her eyes back to the television.

He trains his own eyes on the TV but doesn't really see any of the rest of the movie. He keeps thinking about Madge's insinuation—and his own words about Katniss. When the screen fades to black and the credits begin to roll, he feigns exhaustion, and he can't ignore the disappointment on Madge's face.

"So," she begins softly when he walks her to the door. "I guess I'll see you at the wedding on Saturday?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then," he agrees, opening the door for her. "Thank you for grabbing the movies."

"Well thanks for the pizza and wine," she replies, and she rises onto her toes. Her eyes slip closed and she presses her lips to his cheek. Her lips are warm, but cold at the same time, and there's no spark, no kindling fire in his veins from the touch. He's used to the tiniest whisper of Katniss's lips anywhere on his body—even the most innocent of places—igniting a flame in his belly.

He's thankful when she makes no further move to initiate more. "Night, Peeta."

"Bye, Madge."

He closes the door and slumps against it. Yeah. It's not going to be fun breaking Madge Undersee's heart. But at least with so much experience having his own heart and emotions constantly trampled on, he can empathize with her enough to do it with tact.

When he slides into bed a little while later, his pillow smells like Katniss.

And he swears he can still hear her moaning his name and feel her fingers raking through his scalp as he tosses and turns and craves the relief that sleep will hopefully brings. He shivers and burrows further under the covers.

He prays she stays out of his dreams tonight.

* * *

_~Then~_

_End of Senior Year/Summer before Freshman Year of College_

_(18 years old)_

* * *

A sharp kick to his calf rouses him, and he cracks open his eyes to see Bristel staring at him, her head propped up on her elbow. "You need to get dressed and get out."

"Good morning to you too," he grumbles, rubbing his fists over his eyes and blinking rapidly to clear the sticky rheum that's accumulated there overnight.

She throws back the covers and hops off the bed, crossing her arms across her chest and tugging down the hem of her sleep shirt. "My parents will be back soon, Peeta."

He sighs and toes down the sheet off his legs, scanning the floor for his pants. He spies them laying in a heap near Bristel's closet, and he motions to them. "A little help." She snatches the jeans and tosses them to him. As he tugs the denim up over his hips and buttons them, he retrieves his t-shirt from beside the bed and throws it on. "So did you want to come shopping with me today?"

He expects her to jump at the chance to do the dutiful girlfriend thing and help him start to purchase things that he'll need when he leaves for college in a few weeks, but Bristel purses her lips and fiddles with the cord on the Venetian blinds before she twists it and the room floods with slanted rays of sunshine. "I don't think so." Her teeth work over her lower lip and her eyes are unusually hard. "But we need to talk, Peeta."

He arches an eyebrow at her. Nothing good has ever followed those words.

He's been dating Bristel for just over eight months now. Up until he graduated six weeks ago, things had been good. Great even, maybe. She supported him all through wrestling season, and he willingly attended all her swim meets. She was excited for him when the acceptance letters and scholarship offers arrived from the various colleges and universities that he applied to, and she was excited when he compromised with his parents and decided on majoring in business at Penn State where he could play football. His mother lamented his rejection of U Penn for weeks before she started dropping hints that she would get over it as long as he eventually goes to Wharton for his MBA. Then came her junior prom and his senior ball and graduation. They've been happy.

His defenses are raised immediately, and he hardens his own stare back at her. "About?"

"Us," she replies flatly. "You…college."

He frowns and grabs his keys off her desk. "I thought we talked about college." They had. Extensively. Penn State was a few hours' away, and Bristel's overprotective father had made it patently clear that he did not expect his daughter to drive that far alone to visit him. It would make seeing each other during football season a challenge, but that was what cell phones and Skype and breaks were for, right?

Bristel absently twirls a knotty strand of blonde hair around her index finger. "I'm having second thoughts. Long distance relationships suck. And I want to enjoy my senior year."

His gut twists and he glares at her darkly. This is all coming out of left field. Just last week she had said she loved him. He hadn't been able to bring himself to say it back, but he has never given her a reason to think he doesn't care about her deeply—and he does. "You can't enjoy your senior year as my girlfriend?"

She shrugs and gazes out the window nervously, clearly on the lookout for her parents' car; they should be returning home from their Caribbean cruise soon. "Like you really want to be tied down at school anyway. Sorority girls and cheerleaders are going to be all over you, Peeta."

"I really can't believe this is coming from you," he says, shaking his head in disbelief. "For someone who was professing her love last week and still whining about me showing Katniss attention at Annie's birthday party—"

"Don't bring her into this, Peeta," Bristel snaps. "And look at it this way. You're finally free to go fuck Katniss Everdeen. I know you want to."

"You are unbelievable." He palms his keys angrily. "If this is really how you want to end things, fine." He inhales and stalks past her, reaching for the doorknob. She lunges for his arm and her mouth contorts in agitation.

"Wait, Peeta. I…I'm sorry. It's not how I want to end things. I mean…I shouldn't have said that. We can still see each other until you leave. I just…I want to see other people when you leave for school."

"You can see other people now," he replies. "Get a head start on senior year. Have a good rest of the summer." He opens the door and hastily makes his way down the staircase and out her front door to his car. Once he's slumped in the driver's seat, he stares up at the front window that he knows to be Bristel's, and he snorts derisively. So this is what it feels like to be dumped. Shouldn't it hurt more? The most obvious emotion he feels at the moment is irritation.

His phone pings and he awkwardly shifts in his seat to fish his phone from his front pocket, rolling his eyes when he reads the message from Bristel.

_Bristel: im sorry. dont go. we can talk this out._

He contemplates not texting her back, but he doesn't want to be that guy.

_Peeta: You've made things pretty clear. _

He sets the phone in the console and jams the key into the ignition, revving the car to life and throwing the car into reverse. His mind reels as he drives out of Bristel's subdivision, and without thinking, he realizes he's made the necessary turns to head towards Katniss's house. His best friend is the only one he wants to see right now. Katniss will make him feel better.

Only Katniss's old Accord is in the driveway when he pulls up and kills the engine. He jogs up the weed-choked front path and knocks insistently on the door. Only silence greets him at first. He probably should have called her or at least texted her first. He raps on the door again and waits, listening alertly for any sound from within.

Finally he thinks he discerns a soft thump and then yes, he hears the clicking of the dead bolt and the door swings open, Katniss's sluggish eyes greeting him. He can't help himself when he automatically looks down to her breasts, and he's not disappointed when he can see her erect nipples visible beneath the thin camisole she sleeps in. Her right hand holds a glass of orange juice. "Peeta," she says, "what are you doing here this early?"

"Your mom's not home?" he asks, and she shakes her head and shifts into the doorway, blocking him from entering the small house. "Can I come in then?"

Katniss chews on her lip and apprehension clouds her features. "Um…"

He reaches out and runs his hand up and down her arm gently. "Please? I need someone to talk to right now."

He can feel her shudder under his touch, but still, she hesitates and glances behind her again. "Are you okay?" she asks softly, concern mingling with the anxiety already weighty in her silver irises.

"I'm fine, I think. I just had to see you."

"We can talk out here," she offers, stepping onto the porch. But he stops her, gripping her arm more insistently.

"We can't go up to your room?"

Her eyes dart back and forth as they lock on his, and her lips twitch. She heaves a sigh and nods mutely, opening the door again and as he follows her inside, his brows knit in confusion at the sight in the tiny foyer and beyond in the living room. Cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes dominate the space, labeled crudely with loopy scrawls. The walls are bare and some of the furniture is missing. Katniss hangs back near the stairs and Peeta glances over at her. "What is this?"

"What does it look like?" she asks flatly. She drains the rest of the orange juice and sets the glass down on the staircase.

"It looks like you're moving."

She plays with the hem on her camisole, exposing some of her toned stomach to him. "I am."

If Bristel's rejection of him didn't catch him off-guard sufficiently, this revelation floors him, sending his already churning stomach into a free-fall. "When? Where? Why didn't you—?"

She cuts him off by grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs to her bedroom. As they pass her mother's room, he notices the door is open and the room is completely barren. Prim's room is vacant as well. "Katniss, what the fuck is going on?"

She settles on her bed and glances up at him, and the plaintive glaze over her eyes breaks his heart. "My mom moved out. She moved in with that asshole she's been seeing. Prim went with her."

"And you didn't?" Her room is nearly as bare as the rest of the house—at least what he's seen of it. A jumble of boxes climbs the wall beside her closet in precarious piles, her neat handwriting identifying each: _Books. Winter clothes. Peeta._

He has his own box?

Katniss is no longer looking at him. Her eyes bore into her lap, her fingers worrying the cuticle of one thumb as she picks at it forcefully. "Katniss," he begins, lowering himself onto her narrow twin bed, placing a hand on her bare knee. "Please talk to me."

She sighs, her shoulders sagging. "My mom kind of kicked me out."

His blood sizzles and his fists automatically ball up. "What?" Katniss's mother has done some pretty shitty things to her over the years, but his disgust with the woman has hit a new high. "She did what?"

Katniss raises her head. A glint of steely determination creeps into her eyes. "She told me that I was eighteen and it was time for me to move out. So when she sold the house and moved in with that shithead, I wasn't part of the package deal."

"Fuck, Katniss." He's stunned into silence for several minutes before he gathers her into his arms and hugs her tightly. His problems seem trivial given this sobering reality check. "Where are you going to go?"

She clutches at his shirt and buries her face in the crook of his neck, and he senses her inhaling deeply. He hopes there's no residual scent from Bristel's overbearing perfume on his shirt. "I've been looking for apartments, but I haven't found one cheap enough to afford without a roommate. So Mrs. Hawthorne offered to let me stay in Gale's room for a while when he goes back to Pitt in a few weeks. Til then, I'm going to crash in their rec room."

Peeta has always had an irrational jealousy of Gale Hawthorne. Katniss may have rejected him a few years ago, but Peeta has long feared that her closeness to Gale will eventually grow into an attraction on her part. The first time he gave into Bristel's advances and finally slept with her was when Katniss spent part of Spring Break visiting Gale at the University of Pittsburgh. The paranoia he felt thinking about her sleeping in the same room as Gale ate at him all night until after their date at the movies, he let Bristel urge him into the back seat of his car. He felt guilty about thinking about Katniss while he was thrusting in and out of Bristel until his girlfriend had impatiently shoved his hand away when he tried to touch her clit and bluntly told him that her ex never had to do that to make her come during sex.

Looking back now, of course, it's moments like that that affirm to him that while he liked Bristel, he would never love her. And he suspects now, given her casual dismissal of their relationship, that she didn't really love him and the words just don't mean as much to her as they do to him. When he says 'I love you' to a girl, he's going to mean it.

He knows deep down he's waiting to say it to Katniss.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he says, stroking her hair, his fingers combing through the long, silky tresses. "We tell each other everything, Katniss."

She sighs against his chest, her warm breath seeping through the thin cotton of his shirt. "You've been so excited about going to school and football and everything. My problems don't need to be your problems and drag you down. What could you have done?"

He falters, his fingers catching on a small knot near the base of her skull. "You could —"

"Stay with you?" His hand ceases its ministrations. She always knows what he is going to say. "Yeah, your mother would love that Peeta. She fucking hates me more than my own mother does."

She's right of course. His mother would have never willingly let Katniss take up residence in the Mellark house. He would have had to sneak her down to the guest room in the finished basement like some kind of stray animal and kept her hidden. Fuck. The thought actually kind of excites him.

She sighs again. "Besides, you're leaving for school soon. And I'll be here."

Pressing his lips gently to the crown of her head, he hears the lament that she cannot keep out of her voice. Katniss had done the cursory looking at colleges, but Peeta knew the whole time that going away to school, even a state one, was not in the cards for her. She'll be going to Bucks County, trying to save enough money to transfer after two years at the community college.

"I'll be okay, Peeta. At least I'll eat well at the Hawthornes." He smiles ruefully at her attempt to make the best of the situation. "Hey," she adds, "you're the one who came here wanting to talk. What's wrong?" Her hand covers his on her knee, and she gazes up at him.

He almost feels stupid whining about his drama, but there's no better time to tell her. "Bristel and I broke up."

"Oh shit, Peeta. I'm sorry." It's not meant to be a question, but the inflection in her voice at the end suggests otherwise. She starts stroking his hand comfortingly as he relates the details of his rude awakening at Bristel's but he leaves out a few key things—namely that he had spent the night at her house. He suspects Katniss knows he and Bristel had been having sex, but given the circumstances, he really doesn't feel compelled to remind her of it.

"Well she's right about one thing," Katniss murmurs, her fingers playing with the hem of his gym shorts. He stares down at her and she smiles. "You're not going to be lacking for girls falling at your feet when you get to Penn State. It's probably best you're single when you get to school."

There's another inflection in her voice, one that sends a faint current flickering through his veins. His gaze drops to her lips, soft and pink and so enticing. The bare skin of her knee has started to burn under his touch, and though he knows he probably shouldn't, he cradles her neck and tilts her neck up as he closes the distance and presses his lips to hers experimentally.

Her response is swift. Her palms land on his abdomen, pushing him down to the mattress, and she climbs over him, leaning down to keep their mouths connected as she kisses him back readily. His hands slide down her back, his fingers tracing her spine, clutching at her hips to urge her forward.

_Holy shit. _

Kissing her is even better than he remembered. Their mouths slant and angle effortlessly, reading the other's movements perfectly. The tart taste of oranges and remnants of pulp teases his tongue when she parts her lips and licks her way into his mouth. Her tongue thoroughly explores the roof of his mouth, swipes along both cheeks and grazes his teeth before daring his to duel.

"You're _such_ a good kisser," she mumbles against his lips, and when she moans so low that it's practically a growl, his thumbs dig into her hipbones and she rocks directly over his erection.

She breaks the kiss and sits up, her shoulders squared, and as she thrusts her pelvis against him again, her fingers grip the bottom of her camisole and in one fluid motion, the shirt is over her head and tossed to the floor. He forces his eyes to stay open to watch the dusky little buds pucker, and their eyes connect, his gaze searching hers for permission. She bites her lip and nods, throwing her head back as he leans up to take one hardened nipple into his mouth. Her skin is warm under his tongue as he circles the nub and she holds his head tightly against her chest, her fingers combing through his hair encouragingly.

How has it been so long since he got to do this? How has he gone almost a year without touching her like this?

Katniss wiggles her hips and her gyrations are quickly spurring the heat to spread in his groin, and he knows he needs to gain the upper hand and keep things under control for a little bit longer—god help him, he is praying this is leading where he thinks it's leading. With an arm around her slender waist, he deftly uses one of his wrestling holds to reverse their positions and pin her underneath him. She gasps sharply and her chest heaves, her eyes alight with anticipation. He grins and dips his head to her neglected breast. She sighs her approval as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth.

This is a fucking dream. It has to be. He's going to wake up next to Bristel and feel like complete and utter shit that he's dreaming of fucking his best friend instead of his girlfriend.

"Mmm…Peeta…"

Now he's even _hearing _Katniss's voice moaning his name.

"Peeta," she calls again, and he closes his eyes tightly and opens them again. Katniss's luminous grey eyes peer up at him from under heavy lids. "Kiss me again. Please." He releases her nipple from his mouth with a soft wet 'pop' and impulsively tugs off his shirt, throwing it to the floor, so he can feel her breasts on his bare skin. He braces himself on his arms, descending on her waiting lips. She juts her pelvis up and her short nails raise faint red lines on his shoulders as he obliges and kisses her passionately.

Suddenly, she lunges up and knocks him back, a knowing gleam in her eyes. She shifts her weight as his head falls back at the foot of her bed. His heart thumps wildly when her hand gropes over the crotch of his shorts, her fingers probing under the elastic band and yanking insistently. His eyes widen and he raises his hips to aid her in pulling down his shorts and boxers with one sharp tug. She gathers her hair in one hand and he groans as her tongue darts out to circle the tip of his cock. Grinning, she licks the head more thoroughly then runs her tongue up and down the shaft, and when she takes him in her mouth, he can't keep his eyes open and his pulse starts to race. The sensations her sucking motions create ebb rapidly. It's been awhile since he had a blowjob; once he and Bristel started having sex, she no longer made any effort to pleasure him orally.

The few times she did it, however, never felt as good as Katniss's mouth feels on him presently. She occasionally glances up and her lips quirk up around his cock as he watches it slide in and almost out of her mouth.

She looks so incredibly sexy giving him head that he's teetering on the precipice much sooner than he'd like. "Katniss," he rasps, "you have to stop."

She shakes her head vehemently and increases the pace, palming his balls and fondling them gently. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as the tingling intensifies and he places his hands firmly on her shoulders. With her free hand she smacks at him, and a guttural groan rips from his throat as he crashes over the edge, his cock pulsing in her mouth. She coughs a little but continues to suckle him until his dick softens and she sits back on her heels, wiping the corners of her lips and gazing at him anxiously.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit." He glances down at his flaccid cock and back to meet her eyes. "That…I…"

Her face breaks into a smug grin. "I don't think I've ever seen you at a loss for words, Peeta Mellark."

He sits up and cups her jaw, brushing his lips over her cheek. "That's because I've never come so hard in my life. Fuck, you're amazing."

The smug grin fades to a pleased flush, and she pushes her glossy raven locks behind her ear. "It was good?"

"Um, yeah," he laughs. "Better than good." He lets his thumb idly pluck at her nipple, coaxing it to peak again while his other hand wanders to the band of her sleep shorts.

She emits a strangled croak and bats at his hand. "What are you doing?"

He dips his fingers below the elastic and gently rubs them along the soft skin. "I want to return the favor."

She jerks out of his grip. "Peeta, I didn't blow you out of pity or because I expect you to…" Her words catch and she glances away. "I don't expect anything in return. I wanted to make you feel good."

He leans forward and his lips ghost over hers. "Katniss, ever since we…um…since prom night, I have been dying to know what you taste like." In truth, it's been a hell of a lot longer than that; he was twelve the first time Rye regaled him with the details of how to go down on a girl. And while the details had been appalling at first, once he got a little older and started watching porn, he began fantasizing about the act. Katniss had always been the one Peeta envisioned eating out.

"I want to do this. Please, let me do this," he beseeches.

She chews on her bottom lip, her teeth working over the slightly chapped skin. Her breathing is noticeably quicker, and his own breaths accelerate when she climbs off the bed and her hands slowly ease the shorts down her narrow hips, leaving her clad only in a pair of practical lavender boy shorts. Her hands still on the band of the underwear, and he scoots forward on the bed and swings his legs over to land on the floor. His hands cover hers and carefully, he guides her to bring the panties down her legs, and she swallows as his eyes reacquaint themselves with her naked body.

"You're beautiful you know," he whispers as he extends his hand, but she hesitates and doesn't immediately lie back down on the bed.

"You're the only one who thinks so," she replies, "and it's like your fucking duty as my best friend to tell me that."

He snorts and catches her around the waist, easily flipping her onto her back and perching above her. She automatically crosses her legs, and he shakes his head at her, wedging a hand between her thighs to gently urge them apart. "You don't give yourself enough credit." She clamps her legs shut on his hand again, and he sighs inwardly. "Relax, Katniss. Please. I mean it. I want to go down on you."

She parts her lips as if to utter a protest, but then her eyes darken imperceptibly as he feels her thigh muscles relax slightly and she slowly spreads her legs, her knees bowing to either side. His cock has begun to stir again, and as he appraises the sight before him, he grows harder and his stomach tenses. He closes his eyes to gather himself and crouches down, whispering kisses up and down her inner thighs. He hears her inhale sharply, and when he glances up, he sees her staring down at him, her lower lip caught between her front teeth. Smiling, he uses his fingers to experimentally sweep through the wetness, parting her folds gingerly. She sucks in another breath and her eyes flutter shut.

He wets his lips and lets his tongue drag up the length of her, and her hips jerk up reflexively at the contact. He laps at her again then rolls his tongue around his own mouth to fully appreciate the tangy, erotic flavor. She tastes fucking amazing. Slowly, his tongue flicks and swirls around her lips, tracing the soft edges, savoring more of her arousal as he goes.

Katniss's breathy moans yield to audible keening as she struggles to hook her legs around his hips. He sits back reluctantly for a second and looks up at her. "Here," he says, coaching her to scoot closer to him so he can drape her legs over his shoulders. She rocks her hips impatiently as he buries himself in the slick heat again.

"Oh, fuck," she gasps, turning her head to muffle her cries in the comforter. Her hands fist the downy fabric as he feels her clit beneath his tongue, pressing down on it more insistently, and he's rewarded with another cry that's swallowed by the fluffy quilt.

Oral sex was not something Bristel had enjoyed. After her comment about her ex not being able to get her off, Peeta had taken it as a challenge and set about enthusiastically pleasuring her, but the first time he did it, she squirmed so much and complained and whined that they should just have sex, and though he persisted and she finally came, she was less than responsive when he did it on subsequent occasions. And as she did with the blowjobs, he stopped bothering once they started sleeping together.

So a pleasant warmth spreads in his stomach and seizes his balls when he considers that Katniss seems to be _more than_ enjoying the tandem efforts of his mouth and tongue.

"Katniss, if your mom is gone, there's no reason to be quiet," he whispers, and she flinches. Her eyes open and she stares at him, her eyes glassy and her cheeks as pink as the icing he uses at the bakery. He runs a hand down her outer thigh and back up to settle on her hip. "I like hearing you. I want to hear you saying my name."

A crackle appears in the cloudy irises. "Who says I was saying your name?" she says playfully.

He blinks at her and a smirk creeps onto his lips. His head dips down and he latches onto the swollen bundle of nerves, humming triumphantly when her stomach muscles tighten and she in fact _screams _his name, her voice faltering, turning the 'ah' at the end into more of a grunted 'uh.' He sucks on her clit, letting his tongue dart out periodically, and when he glances up at her again, his cock throbs when he sees her tongue protruding and her hands covering her breasts.

Her heels spur into his back, just below his shoulder blades, and the juts of her pelvis against his mouth became frantic. He plunges his tongue inside her and uses the pad of his thumb to rub her clit quickly. "Peeta!" she screams again. "Oh god, right there! _Unghh_!" As he slides his tongue out, he curls it back over her clit and suddenly her back arches off the bed and a fresh flood of moisture coats his tongue. He continues to lap at her as her body quivers and shudders and she whimpers and gropes for his shoulders. He lets the last of her first orgasm abate, and when her clit stops pulsing against his tongue, he clambers up and cradles her jaw, kissing her urgently. She pulls back slightly and wrinkles her nose at him.

"You taste good, don't you?" He laughs softly, and her nose crinkles more.

"Ew, no. You tasted better."

"We'll have to agree to disagree then," he murmurs, suckling gently on the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, and he can't help himself as he cups one of her breasts, squeezing gently as he moves his mouth to nibble her earlobe. He brushes his knuckles along her jawline. "Did you like that though?"

"Yes, so much," she gasps when his fingers pinch her nipple. "Peeta, did…did you want to…?"

His thumb brushes back and forth over the hardened bud. "Want to…?" He'd like to think he's as good at finishing her thoughts as she is with his, and he hopes to god that he's right this time, but he wants to hear her say it.

She wiggles her hips beneath him, his cock trapped between their bodies. "Have sex?"

"Fuck yes!" He can't even be embarrassed at how fast the answer leaves his lips because the little smile on Katniss's lips erases everything else but the lust for her pumping through his veins. He pushes back her hair and kisses her, softly at first, but then Katniss's tongue sweeps along his lower lip and he groans and allows her to plunder his mouth eagerly.

"Do you have a condom?" she asks breathlessly. He nods and motions towards his wallet, which rests besides his keys on her empty desk. "Get it." He jumps off her and grabs the foil square from his wallet, and Katniss sits up on her elbows, watching him as he tears the packet open and unfurls the condom. She bites her lip, and she sits up fully as her fingers close over his. "Can I, this time?" He drops his hand in response and steps closer to the bed, unable to suppress his smile as she reaches for his cock. In spite of the incredible blowjob, he's painfully hard, and in a way, it feels like the first time again.

She glances up at him and places a kiss on the tip of his cock before she sheathes it in the thin latex and he climbs atop her. Her arms wind up and around his back, her eyes squeezing shut, and he realizes that some of that apprehension from their first time has returned for her too.

"You ready?" He presses kisses across her collarbone and strokes her hair soothingly. She nods and her lips tremble slightly. "Katniss, look at me."

Obediently, her eyelids lift, and he gazes down at her adoringly as he slowly eases into her, her velvety walls welcoming his intrusion. Her eyes widen imperceptibly, and he thrusts the rest of the way in, grunting a little from the unbelievable sensation of how tight she is but how perfectly he seems to fill her. She gasps and her nails dig into his shoulders and he feels the half-moon grooves cutting into the skin, but then she locks her eyes on his and undulates her hips up to match his movements, and those tiny moans of delight start anew. Her back arcs slightly and her breasts flatten against his chest when she seeks his lips, and the fevered kiss she initiates sends a deluge of heat to his groin. Their lips and tongues roll and tangle and retreat and tease as he pumps in and out of her.

At some point, he thinks he hears his phone ringing, but his senses are so inundated with everything Katniss that he doesn't give it a second thought.

"Oh, god, Peeta," she cries when he finds her clit with his hand and rubs tight, furious circles over the nub again. "Oh fuck…I can't…" She begins to thrash under him, and he hitches her leg back onto the crook of his elbow to deepen his thrusts, feeling his control waning too. Her entire body tenses and spasms, and he feels the contractions of her walls repeatedly seize at his cock, and the tension finally bursts, an intense orgasm cleaving through him as he floods the condom.

He coaxes her onto her side so they can recover from the waves of ecstasy still surging through them both. His arms wrap around her and he rests his chin on her shoulder. She burrows closer to him and absently plays with the fine hairs on his arm. They lay spooned together for a few moments before he kisses her shoulder and asks, "How much longer can you stay here?"

Katniss sighs softly. He swears that he hears her mumble, "Forever," but she says more clearly, "I have til Friday. The new owners close that morning. I have to be out by noon. My mom has to come back for the rest of her and Prim's stuff over the next few days."

He nuzzles her neck. "When did she leave? How long have you been alone?" She hesitates. "Katniss?"

"Since last Thursday."

"And you didn't tell me? That's over a week! Katniss!"

The obnoxious trill of his phone shrieks again. "Shouldn't you get that?"

He shouldn't. Because the person he cares most about in this world is right where he wants her, and whoever is on the other end of that call can wait. His concern for her trumps anything else in his life at the moment.

"Peeta?" she says. "Your phone?"

He heaves a sigh and reluctantly unwinds his arms from around Katniss and hops off the bed, unfazed by his nudity as he retrieves his phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Katniss searching the floor for her clothes, and he shakes his head at her vehemently, not wanting her to cover herself from him yet.

His throat constricts reflexively when he sees Bristel's face and her number on the phone. He glances over at Katniss who, much to his dismay, has tugged her camisole back on, but she gives him a tiny smile, and emphatically he silences the phone and walks back to her.

"Was that Bristel?"

"Doesn't matter," he murmurs, cupping her cheek and rubbing his thumb along her temple. "Don't think I'm not going to stay here with you tonight."

"Peeta, your mother—"

He silences her with a finger pressed firmly against her supple lips, plump from being so thoroughly kissed. "My mother won't find out. I'll tell my dad I got drunk and I'm crashing at Cato's. They never question me when I'm being a good citizen."

Her mouth is warm against the pad of his index finger, and he already hungers to kiss her again.

So he does.

* * *

He returns Bristel's call the next day, and though she is remorseful and again hints that there's no reason why they can't keep 'hooking up'—her words, not his—until he leaves for Penn State, he firmly tells her that she made her feelings clear and hopefully they can be friends. He hangs up when she starts ranting about how she doesn't care if she ever sees him again.

He sees less of Katniss during the week than he would like to, but she always seems to be working, which he supposes is necessary if she's trying to save up for an apartment. He doesn't like the thought of her living all by herself, but with all their friends going away to school she really has no options for a roommate. He kind of just hopes she stays with the Hawthornes for a while—since Gale won't be there most of the time. Gale's mother has always been good to Katniss.

On Thursday afternoon, she texts him to ask her to help take the last of her things to the Hawthornes' house, and he sees the suspicious glint in his mother's eye when he tells his parents that Katniss needs him to move some stuff and he won't be going home for dinner after he finishes up at the bakery. So he plans to play the 'I'm a little too drunk to drive' card again later.

After he helps Katniss load a few more things into her beat-up Accord, he rides along when she drives the last few boxes to the Hawthornes' house. Peeta has to tamp down a flicker of jealousy when he sees Gale waiting for them on the front porch and he remembers Katniss is going to be under the same roof as Gale for at least a couple more weeks. He tries to reassure himself by remembering Katniss under him the other morning, but the memory of being inside her stirs his cock and he has to let his envy return to keep his erection at bay.

They drive back to the Everdeen house. She glances around her empty room, her eyes flitting to the stark walls and the faded green carpet and sighs, a deep exhalation that sags her shoulders. He hesitates in the doorframe and studies her.

"You okay?" he asks gently.

She shrugs. "I didn't think I'd really care this much," she begins. "It's not like I have many happy memories in this dump." She crosses to the window and peers out, wrapping her arms around herself. "But it's still the only place I've ever called home, you know?"

He walks across to where she stands and lingers behind her then impulsively he draws her back against him and links his hands together over her navel. He feels her relax into his embrace, and when she leans her head back on his shoulder, the familiar scent of her shampoo does things to him and he finds himself nuzzling her neck. She sighs again and suddenly she pivots in his arms.

"You know my happiest memories here all involve you? That's the only thing I'm sad about leaving this stupid house behind. This where we first…" She trails off and flashes him a little grin, reaching down and surprising him when he feels her hand cup his semi-hard cock through his jeans. He closes his eyes reflexively as it fully swells at the touch and she leans up to press a kiss to his lips. "Wanna make one last memory here with me?"

She clings to him when his hands find purchase on her hips and he clutches her tightly, kissing her back with such ferocity that they're both gasping for air by the time she wrenches free and tugs impatiently at the bottom of his shirt. Within seconds, she has him undressed, and she is shedding her own clothes until they are both naked and she's pushing him down to the floor, as much out of urgency as necessity since there's no furniture left in the room. (Most of Katniss's stuff sits in a temporary storage pod on the Hawthornes' driveway.)

He lies down on the threadbare carpet, and his cock throbs as she straddles him and places her hands on his chest as she sinks onto him fully. The incredible feeling of her heat welcoming him without that thin layer of latex is overwhelming, but it gives him pause. "Katniss," he hisses, choking on a groan as she swivels her hips and begins to ride him.

"Is this not okay?" she asks. Her mercury eyes are hazy with lust and she bites her lip when he stops his thrusts.

"The condom," he murmurs. "You didn't—"

She shifts her hands behind her on his thighs and jerks her hips forward, coaxing him to start moving again. "I, um…went on the Pill a few weeks ago. The other night I just wanted to be sure." She hesitates. "You, um, always used protection with Bristel, right?" He looks away briefly, but nods. She stops gripping his thighs and leans down to kiss him sweetly. "So is it okay that we don't use one?" She looks at him hopefully. "You're okay with it? You trust me?"

He's more than fucking okay with it—though he pushes away the thought that she was clearly thinking about birth control while he was still with Bristel. He won't let any potential jealousy or confusion ruin this moment.

He kisses her deeply in reply, his tongue sweeping along the roof of her mouth as he swallows her moans and she resumes the sinuous revolutions of her pelvis. Then she releases his mouth and throws her head back, crying his name as her eyes slip closed. Her breasts jostle lightly, and he can't resist covering them with his palms, fondling them as she mewls her approval. He fights the sensations that well in him, trying desperately to stave off his climax, but he succumbs and comes much too soon as he feared would be the case without anything between them. With a grunt and one last snap of his hips, he spills into her, and she whimpers and continues rocking. He barely gets his fingers on her clit through the slippery mess where they're joined before she's also shuddering and shattering above him.

Katniss's heart pounds erratically against his chest as she slumps down to kiss him, and he carefully flips her over, his thumbs brushing her temples as their mouths slowly mold and meld together. After several minutes of unhurried kissing, Katniss rises and spreads out the sleeping bags on the floor. She unzips hers fully first, and then his, and after they both clean up a little, they curl into one another again as he strokes her bare back, still trying to slow his feverish heartbeat.

"Peeta?" she whispers. "Thank you."

"For what?" he murmurs into her hair.

"Staying with me. Being there for me. Being you. Take your pick."

He lifts her chin and presses his lips to hers softly. "I told you that I'd always be there for you. I meant it. I love you."

So much for his heartbeat. It resumes its frantic pace as he watches her eyes flicker in the moonlight and her nose flares slightly. She kisses him again, and he's okay with the fact she says nothing else when her lips finally still on his and she drifts off in his arms.

He has everything he's ever wanted in his eighteen years for tonight, and that's enough.

* * *

_**A/N-**I know. I know. Just keep repeating 'Everlark HEA' to yourself. I do as I write. And I work on the epilogue a little each time too. _

_I can't thank you enough for the reviews, the PMs, and the likes/reblogs/messages you send Street on her tumblr on my behalf. It is humbling and flattering and I love you all more for it. I know I missed responding to a bunch of them last chapter due to multiple family visits (personal) and tons of beta work. I appreciate every one. _

_Thanks to ILoveRynMar for always pushing me to work on this and to Street for loving CMP!Katniss so much and being just about perfect herself __and to Pookieh for her expert eyes and impeccable taste in music. _

_Thanks for reading. ~C_


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